LOUISA, 


POETICAL       NOVEL, 


I    N 


FOUR      EPISTLES. 


BY     MISS     SEWARD. 


THE      SECOND      EDITION. 


LICHFIELD: 

Printed  and  Sold  by  J.Jackson,  and  G.Robinson, 
IN    Pater  -  NosTER  -  Row,    London, 

MDCCLXXXIV. 


PREFACE.  ^^^ 

57J 

TH  E  enfuing  epillolary  poems  contain  a  defcription  rather  -^  /  -^ 
of  palTions  than  of  incidents.  They  refulted  from  an  idea  //>^y 
of  it  being  pollihle  to  unite  the  impaflion'd  fondnefs  of  Pope's 
EL  O  ISA,  with  the  charter  tendernefs  of  Prior's  EMMAj 
avoiding  the  voluptuoufnefs  of  the  firft:,  and  the  too  conceding 
foftnefs  of  the  fecond.  It  is  hoped  the  Reader  will  diflinguifli 
between  the  apprehended  poflibility  of  exhibiting  in  verfe  a  more 
faultlefs  female  Charadler  than  the  E  LOIS  A  of  Pope,  or  the 
EMMA  of  Prior,  and  the  ralh  and  vain  defign  of  equalling, 
much  lefs  of  furpafiing  the  tranfcendent  poetic  excellence  of  either 
of  thofe  Compofitions. 

The  LOUISA  of  the  following  pages  has  all  that  enthufiafm 
which  fprings  frpm  an  heart  warmly  affedionate,  joined  to  a  glow- 
ing and  pidturefque  imagination.  Her  lenfibilities,  heightened,  and 
refined  in  the  bofom  of  Retirement,  know  no  bounds,  except  thofe 
which  the  dignity  of  confcious  Worth,  and  aflrong  fenfe  of  Religion 
prefcribe.  It  is  feared  the  modern  young  Ladies  will  have  little 
fympathy  with  her,  fince  (he  is  unfafhionably  enthufiaftic,  aud  un- 
faftiionably  tender. 

A  N  ingenious  Friend,  after  reading  the  firft  epilllc,  remarked, 
that  LOUISA  might  have  defcribed  with  more  interefting  par- 
ticularity her  Lover's  declaration  of  Jiis  paflion,  and  the  manner 
in  which  Hie  received  that  declaration  ;  but  the  Author  thought 
the  prefent  method  of  conveying  that  circumftance  to  the  mind  of 
the  Reader  more  poetic.  Pope's  E  L  O  I  S  A  is  minute  in  her  def- 
cription of  the  awful  Scenery,  formed  by  the  rocks,  the  llreams,  and 
mountains  of  Paraclete,  but  by  no  means  minute  concerning  the 
amorous  eclaircillement  between  herfelf  and  Abelard.  LOUISA 
difcriminates  her  Lover's  early  attentions  to  her,  tho'  (lie  leaves  the 
manner  of  his  declaring  their  fource  very  much  to  the  Imagination. 

Her 


876G67 


VI. 


PREFACE. 


Her  application  of  the  beautiful  fcenic  objeds,  by  which  fhe  was  at 
that  interval  furrounded,  to  her  own,  and  to  her  Lover's  fituation  j 
and  the  pafling  fuddenly  to  their  prefent  altered  appearance,  contrails 
the  charms,  and  bloom  of  the  firft,  with  the  chill  drearinefs  of  the 
fecond.  There  it  was  that  the  Author  had  in  view  that  ftriklng  letter 
in  the  3d  Vol.  of  the  Nouvelle-Heloife,  which  defcribes  St.  Preaux 
accompanying  Mrs.  Wolmar  to  the  rocks  of  Meillerie,  then  covered 
with  the  richnefs  of  Summer-luxuriance ;  and  painting  to  her  the 
fituation  of  that  very  Scene,  when  he  had  vifited  it  alone,  amidft  the 
horrors  of  Winter,  and  found  thofe  horrors  congenial  to  the  temper 
of  his  Soul. 

This  Poem  has  little  chance  to  be  popular.  A  feeling  Heart, 
and  a  fondnefs  for  Verfe  muft  uniie  to  render  it  interefling.  A  feeling 
Heart  without  a  glowing  Imagination  will  be  tired  of  the  Landfcape- 
painting,  fomewhat  luxuriantly  interfperfed.  An  Imagination  that 
glows  while  the  Heart  is  frozen,  has  a  propenfity  to  fancy  every  thing 
profaic  which  is  not  imagery,  and  will  probably  yawn  over  the  reafon- 
jng  of  thefe  Lovers,  and  ficken  over  their  tendernefs. 

I  F,  however,  this  little  Work  has  the  honor  to  interefl:  and  pleafe, 
the  Few,  in  whom  the  kind  and  fweet  affedions  are  blended  with 
poetic  tafte,  the  end  for  which  it  is  publiflied  will  be  obtained. 

The  firft  hundred  and  fifty  fix  lines  were  written  when  the  Author 
was  only  nineteen.  They  had  been  miflaid  during  a  long  interval.  It 
is  fixteen  months  fince  they  were  accidentally  recovered.  Some  few 
Friends,  to  whom  the  Fragment  was  fhevvn,  thought  it  worth  being 
extended  into  a  regular  Work.  The  firft,  and  third  of  thefe  epiftles 
are  defigned  to  be  defcriptive,  and  fentimental ;  the  fecond,  and  laft, 
dramatic. 


•5W?^ 


O       U       I       S       A 


T  O 


EMMA, 


HER    FRIEND    IN     THE    EAST-INDIE9. 


October  21,  1779.  . 

THEE,   Emma,  four  revolving  years  have  {qqii 
PrefUng,  with  penlive  foot,   Savannas  green, 
Whofe  wide  expanfe  the  broad  Bananas  fliade, 
When  the  fierce  beams  of  torrid  Suns  invade ; 
Seen  thee,  with  longing,  weftward  looks,  inhale 
The  tardy  breeze,   that  fans  the  orient  vale. 

Now,  as  with  filial  care  thy  light  ftep  roves, 
Thro'  India's  palmy  plains,  and  fpicy  groves, 

To 


[  2  ] 

'^o  blefs  thee,  exil'd  thus  in  Youth's  gay  prime, 
May  fprightly  Health  refift  the  fultry  clime, 
Temper  the  fickly  blaft,   the  fever'd  ray. 
And  Peace,   and  Pleafure,  lead  the  fhining  Day  ! 
Yet,  when  thou  know'fl  for  me,  that  Sorrow  fhrouds 
Hope's  cryftal   mirror  with  impervious  clouds. 
The  Tighs,  and  tears,  that  tend'reft  pity  fpeak. 
Shall   fwell  thy  breaft,  and  chill  thy  glowing  cheek  ; 
Since  one  have  been  ovlt  pleafures,  one  our  cares, 
From   the  firft  dawn  of  thofe  delicious  years, 
What  time,  infpir'd  by  joy's  enlivening  pow'rs, 
We  chas'd  the  gilded  Infedt  thro'  the  bow'rs  ; 
And  oh  !    I  fondly  tell  my  anxious  heart, 
The  deareft  truth  experience  can  impart. 
That  yet,   to  quench  this  fympathy  of  foul. 
Time,   and  the  w^orld  of  waters,   vainly  roll. 

O'er  this  deep  Glen,  departing  Autumn  throws, 
With  kind  reverted  glance,  a  fhort  repofe, 
E'er  yet  flie  leaves  her  England's   fading  fcene, 
Where  fickly  yellow  ftains  the  vivid  green, 

And 


f     3     1 

And  many  an  icy  morn,   and  ftormy   gale, 
Embrown  the  pathway  of  the  winding  vale. 

Now,  while  I  feek  the  bofom  of  the  Glade, 
And  the  thin  fhelter  of  th'  impov'rifli'd  Shade, 
Unequal  fteps,  and  riiing  iighs,   difclofe 
The  thorny  preflure  of  tyranic  woes ; 
And  where  th'  incumbent  Rock,  with  awful  face. 
Bends  o'er  the  fountain,  gurgling  from  its  bafe. 
And  marks  the  limit  of  the  filent  Dell, 
Sadly   I  fit  my  bofom' d  griefs  to  tell ; 
Invoke  thy  Spirit,   thofe  fond  griefs   to  footh. 
And  bid,  alas !    their  furging  tide  be  fmooth. 

It  will  not  be  ; — fince  here,  with  yearning  thought, 
By  weak,   involuntary  impulfe  brought, 
Where  Love  and  Mem'ry  bear  refiftlefs  fway, 
And  all  the  weaknefs  of  the  Soul  betray  ! 

O  ye  known  objedls ! — how  ye  ftrike  my  heart  ! 
And  vain  regrets,  with  keener  force,  impart ! 

B  2  Slow 


C   4   3 

Slow,  thro'  the  faded  Grove,  pafl:  Pleafures  glicje,_   J  _ 
Or  fadly  linger.^  (^y^.the  fountain's  £4%..^  ^rij  riwo-rn'mL" 

Dear,  awful  witnefs  of  a;,byoken  vow^       -  ,,        -  - 
Steep  Rock,  how  fternly  frowfts  thy  rugged  browd!]  h.aA 
But,  if  the  frequent  blaft  fhall  bend  thy  Pines,}  bnn:nU 
Clear  at  thy  foot  the  cryftal  water  fhines  ! 
Tho'  drizzling  Clouds  the  mifty  Mountains  veil, 
Yet  the  mild  Sun-beam  gilds  the  narrow  Daleij  ^  fb~33 
Tho'  vernal  flovv'rs  this  bank  no  more  adorn, ;  /^ 

Nor  Summer's  wild  rofe  blufhes  on  its  thorn. 
Yet  Ihelter'd,  moffy,  dry,  and  warm,  it  draws 
The  heedlefs,  roving  ftep,  to  quiet  paufe. 

Thus  the  pale  Year,  tho'  Nature's  edi<3:s  urge 
Her  ftep  to  Winter's  defolating  verge. 
Sedately  pafles  to  the  drear  domain,  j 

And  breathes,  e'en  yet,  foft  comforts  o'er  the  plain  j 
But  oh !    for  me,  in  Youth's  luxuriant  glow, 
Hope's  lovely  florets  wither  as  they  blow ! 


No 


[     5     ] 

No  grief  my  bofom  at  our  parting  knew, 
But  that  of  biddino;  thee  a  I0112;  adieu  ; 
And  the  fvveet  tears,  that  fuch  foft  forrows  bring. 
Fall,   as  light  rain-drops  from  the  funny  Spring  ; 
For  youthful  Hope,  fubduing  tender  Fears, 
Bounds  o'er  the  gulf  of  interpofing  Years ; 
While,  thro'  their  courfe,  her  airy  hands  avert 
Misfortune's  arrow  from  the  Wand'rer's  heart. 

Soon  then  did  Cheerfulnefs  the  morn  illume. 
And  Peace  defcend  with  Evening's  grateful  gloom  ; 
They  faw  my  breaft  with  that  clear  fpirit  gay, 
Which  fpeeds  the  focial  hour  fo  faft  away. 

Now  Expectation's  fervour  rofc,  to  hail 
The  youthful  Mafter  of  this  quiet   Vale, 
My  blooming  Brother — from  Oxonia's  tow'rs. 
Who  fought,  with  tender  hafte,  his  native  bow'rs. 

'Twas  Noon,  and  ripen'd  Summer's  fervid  ray 
From  cloudlefs  Ether  ilied  opprefTivc  day. 


As 


[      6      ] 

As  on  this  lliady  bank   I  fat  reclin'd, 
My  voice,  that  floated  on  the  waving  wind, 
Taught  the  foft  echos  of  the  neighboring  plains 
Milton's  fweet  lays,  in  Handel's  matchlefs  ftrains-. 
Prefaging  notes  my  lips  unconfcious  try, 
And  murmur — "  *  Hide  me  from  Day's  garifh  eye  !  " 
Ah  !    blefl-,   had  Death  a  fhade  eternal  thrown, 
And  hid  me  from  the  woes  I  iince  have  known  ! 

Beneath  my  trembling  Angers  lightly  rung 
The  Lute's  fweet  chords,  refponfive  while  I  fung. 
Faint  in.  the   yellow  broom  the  Oxen  lay, 
And  the  mute  Birds  fat  languid  on  the  f2ray ; 
And  nought  was  heard,  around  the  noon-tide  bow'r, 
Save,  that  tjie  mountain  Bee,  from  flow'r  to  fliow'r, 
Seem'd  to  prolong,  with  her  afliduous  vTing, 
The  loft  vibration  of  the  tuneful  firing ; 
While  the  fierce  Skies  flam'd  qn^the  fhrinking  Rills, 
And  fultry  Silence  brooded  q^er  the  Hills ! 

As  on  my  lip  the  ling'ring  Cadence  play'd, 
My  Brother  gaily  bounded  down  the  Glade, 

*  An  inchanting  Song  of  Handel's,  from  Milton's  II  Penferofo. 

And, 


[      7     ] 
And,  while  nly  looks  the  fire  of  gladnefs  dart, 
With  ardor  prefs'd  me  to  his  throbbing  Heart ; 
Then  to  a  graceful  Stranger  turn'd,  whofe  feet, 
With  ft:eps  lefs  fwift,  my  coyer  welcome  meet. 
O'er  his  fine  form,  and  o'er  his  glowing  face, 
Youth's  ripcn'd  bloom  had  fhed  its  richeft  grace  ; 
Tall  as  the  Pine,  amidft  inferior  Trees, 
With  all  the  bending  Ozier's  pliant  eafe. 
O'er  his  fair  brow,  the  fairer  for  their  fhade. 
Locks  of  the  warmeft  brown  luxuriant  play'd. 
Blufhing  he  bows  ! — and  gentle  awe  fuppiies 
Each  flattering  meaning  to  his  downcaft  eyes  ; 
Sweet,   ferious,   tender,  thofe  blue  eyes  impart 
A  thoufand  dear  fenfations  to  the  heart  ; 
Mild,  as  the  Evening  Star,   whofe  fhining  ray. 
Soft  in  th'  unruffled  Water  feems  to  play  ; 
And  when  he  fpeaks — not  Mulic's  thrilling  pow'r, 
No,  not  the  vocal  Miftrefs  of  the  bow'r, 
When  flow  fhe  warbles  from  the  bloffom'd  fpray, 
In  liquid  blandifhment,   her  evening  lay, 
Such   foft,  infinuating  fwcetnefs   knows. 
As  from  that  voice,  in  melting  accent  flows  ! 


Yet 


[     8     ] 
Yet  why,  fond  Meni'ry  !    why,  in  tints  fo  warm, 
Paint' ft  thou  each  beauty  of  that  faultlefs  Form  ? 
His  fpecious  virtues  lurely  might  impart 
Excufe  more  juft  for  this  devoted  heart. 
Oh  !   how  each  noble  paffion's  feeming  trace, 
Threw  tranfient  glories  o'er  his  youthful  face ! 
How  rofe,  with  fudden  impulfe,  fwift,  and  ftrong, 
For  ev'ry  fecret  fraud,    and  open  wrong 
Th'   Oppreflbr  a6ls,  the  Helplefs  feel,   or  fear, 
Difdain's   quick  throb,  and  Pity's  melting  tear. 
So  well  its  part  each  dudlile  feature  play'd, 
Of  worth,   fuch  firm,   tho'   filent  promife  made, 
That  to  have  doubted  its  well  painted  truth, 
Had  been  to   want  the  primal  grace  of  youth 
Credulity,   that  fcorns,  with  gen'rous  heat, 
Alike  to  pradlice,   or  fufpeA  deceit. 

Ceafe,  vain  Regrets,  excurfive  Fancy  ceafe ! 
Ye  only  wound  afrefh  my  bleeding  peace, 
And  keep  from  gentle  Emma's   anxious  ear 
Th'  event  fhe  longs,  yet  kindly  dreads,  to  hear ; 

But 


[       9      ] 

But   ah  !    nor  fingiilar,   nor  ftrange  the   tale, 
My   Sifter  -  Suff'rers   mourn   in   ev'ry  vale; 
For  gold,  and  dazzling  ftate,   incelTant   prove, 
In  Man's  hard  heart,  the  Murderers  of  Love. 

While  many  a  Sun  in  Summer-glory  rofe, 
EuGENio's   lip  no  fofter  accent  knows 
Than  Friendfhip  didlates — but  diforder'd  praife. 
Scarce  half  exprefs'd  ;   the  mufing,  ardent  gaze  ; 
The  varying  cheek  ;    the  frequent,  fmother'd  figh, 
Reveal   the  latent  meaning  of  his  eye  ; 
Plain,  and  yet  plainer  ev'ry  hour,  declare 
The   fhining  fecrecies,   that  languifh  there. 

y^Thefe  are  the  days  that  fly  on  Rapture's  wing, 
Empurpling  ev'ry  fiow'r  that  decks  the  Spring  ; 
For  when  Love-kindling  Hope,  with  whifper  bland, 
Wakes  the  dear  magic   of  her  potent  wand, 
More  vivid  colours   paint  the  rifing  Morn, 
And  clearer  cryftal  gems   the  filver  thorn  ; 
On  more  luxuriant  fhade  the  Noon-beam  plays, 
And  richer  gold  the  Ev'ning-Sun  jjrays ; 

C  Starii 


[        ,0        ] 

Stars  feemjto  glitter-  -with  enarrraur'd  fire. 
And   fhadowy' Hills- in  ftatclier  grace,  alfpire  j:>j lie    '(M 
More  fubt:le(>fvye^t2aie'fs;^fcenri  the  pafErtg  galesi  io^  •lo'^ 
And  fofter  beauty^  decks   the  moon-light  Vales  ; 
All  Natore  fmiles  !   nor  e'en  the  jocund  Day, 
When  feftal  rofcs   ftrew  th-e  bridal  v/ay,  ; 

Darts  thro'  the  Virgin  breaft  fuch   keen  ddlight, 
As  when  Soft  Fears  with   gay   Belief  unite  ; 
•  AsIIope,  fwee.t,   warm,  Teducing  Hope  inlipires, 
Which  fomewh at  queftipns,  what  it  moft  defires ; 
Reads   latent  meaning   in  a  Lover's   eye, 
Thrills  at  his  glance,  and  trembles  at  his  figh  ;  "f 

As  o'er  the  Frame  diforder'd  tranfport  pours, 
/sWhen  only  lefs  than  Certainty  is  ours. 

At  length,   that  rofy  Certainty  appears,  ; 

With   faithlefs  promifes   of  golden  years. 
Here,  by  this  fountain  fide,   Eugenio  ftrove 
To  trace  the  tender  progrefs  of  his  love ; 
'Twas  on  the  Evening  of  a  fplendid  Day  ; — 
Calm  on  the  gilded  grafs  the  fountain  lay  ! 

But 


[  »  ] 

But  oh  !    when  doubt,  in  that  dear  moment,  fled, 
A  calm  more  funny  o'er  my  bofom  fpread  ! 

/  As  the  gay  Lark- his  laft  clear  carol   fung, 
And  on  a  ilanting  Sun-beam  warbling  hung, 
With  fweeter  mufic  trill'd  the  v^efper  lay, 
Than  when  he  foar'd  amid  the  blaze  of  Day  ; 
But  yet  a  thoufand  times  more  fweet  the  found, 
In  which  my  Soul  its  deareft  blefling  found  ! 

Slow  on  the  Sun  had  ftol'n  the  failing  Cloud, 
And  drawn  o'er  his  gay  fires  the  purple  fliroud. 
Then  roU'd  away ! — till,  by  no  fhade  repreft, 
Afar  the  fetting  Orb  emblaz'd  the  Weft; 
Lighted  with  arrowy  beanis  the  Ocean  caves, 
And  funk  with  fplendor  in  the  ilJumin'd  waves ! 

Thus  oft  wou'd  Modefty  iher  blufh  employ,     . 
Coyly   to  veil   the  radiance  of  my  joy  ! 
But  from  thefe  eyes  the  fun-bright  gladnefs  beam'd, 
And  all  the  triumph  of  my  bofom  ftream'd  I 

(iiiiijji  C  2  •  'Twas 


C    "    ] 

"*Twas  here, — e'en  here  ! — where  now  I  fit  reclin'd, 
And  Winter's  fighs  found   hollow  in  the  Wind  ; 
Loud,  and  more  loud  the  blaft  of  Evening  raves, 
And  ftrips  the  Oaks  of  their  laft,  ling'ring  leaves; 
The   eddying   foliage   in  the  tcmpeft  flies,  ' 

And  fills  with  dufkier  gloom  the  thick'ning  Skies. 
Red  links  the  Sun,   behind  the  howling  Hill, 
And  ruilies,  with  hoarfe  ftream,  the  mountain  Rill, 
And  now,  with  ruffling  billow,  cold,  and  pale, 
Runs,  fwoln,  and  dafhing,  down  the  lonely  Vale  ; 
While,  to  thefe  tear-full  eyes,  Grief's  faded  form, 
Sits  on  the  Cloud,  and  fighs  amid  the  Storm  ! 

Yet,  dreary  Vale !  detain  thy  penfive  Gueft, 
Tho'  drizzling  fleet  beats  cold  upon  her  breafl: ! 
To  this  fad  Soul  more  welcome  are  thy  glooms. 
Than  Spring's  green  bow'rs,  or  Summer's  gaudy  blooms  ; 
Nor  afks  an  Heart,  that  only  breathes  to  flgh, 
A  warmer  manflon,  or  a  kinder  Sky ! 

And  ftill  that  deftin'd  Heart,  fo  fond  to  mourn. 
And  dwell  on  fcenes,  which  never  can  return. 

Shrinks, 


[      »3      ] 

Shrinks,  e'en  as  guilty  bofoms  fl-irink  from  iTiame, 
To  join  with  Perfidy  Eugenio's   name; 
Feels  its  foft  ftreams  in  ev'ry  piilfe  recede 
From  the  pain'd  mention  of  one  barb'rous  deed, 
That  kills  my  hopes,  like  Eurus'  fierce  career 
On  the  bright  foliage  of  the  early  year  ; 
Which  turns,  while  premature  its  buds  difclofe. 
To  livid  yellownefs   the  damalk   Rofe. 

Thou  fee'ft,  my  Emma,  with  what  fond  delay* 
Th'  unwilling  Spirit  loiters  on  her  way  ; 
Clings  to  paft  fcenes  that  wore  gay  Summer's  form  ; 
Clings   to-  the  vvdldnefs  of  the  wint'ry  Storm, 
To  ftop   the  fad  narration,   e'er  it  throw. 
Dark  on  my  fate,  the  long,  long  night  of  Woe. 

Yet,   O  my  Soul !   refume  it,  e'er  the  pow'r 
Of  wafting  Sicknefs  brings  the  fever'd  Hour, 
That  ftops  th'  ill-guided  pen  in  the  weak  hand, 
And  rtiakes  from  Life's  dim  glafs  the  ebbing  fand ! 


Thou, 


i  H  ] 

Thou,  Emma,  wilt  not  blame  my  eafy  Youth, 
That  foon  this  Heart  declar'd  its  tend'reft  truth. 
Ah  !    could  I  dream  he  feign'd,  whofe  glances  warni 
With  ceafelefs  ardor  wander'd  o'er  my  form  ? 
And  as  gay  fmiles,  and  youthful  graces  fair, 
Shone  in  my  eyes,  and  harmoniz'd  my  air, 
Not  one  unheeded  pafs'd  his  eager  gaze, 
His  fervent,  yet  difcriminating  praife  ; 
Tho'   oft  he   fwore,   amid  the   fond  furvey. 
The  Mind  they  grac'd  was  lovelier  far  than  they ; 
Protefted  oft,  that  Mind  was  form'd  to  {liare 
Each  high-foul'd  purpofe,  and  each  virtuous  care ; 
Catch   ev'ry   new   idea,    as   it   rofe. 
Partake  his  joys,  and  melt  with  all  his  woes  ; 
Falfe  cou'd  I  think  that  vow,  whofe  ftarting  tear 
Sprung,  the   warm  witnefs  of  a  faith  fincere  ? 

Now  dawn'd  th'  appointed,  but  unwelcome  Day, 
That  bore  my  deareft  Brother  far  away, 
Where  foreign  Climes  might  ftore  his  rip'ning  Youth, 
A  With  Obfervation,  Science,   Tafle,  and  Truth. 

•  The 


:[        15        ] 

The  fame  fad  Day  my  lov'd  Eugenio  figh'd 
Adieus   impafTion'd  to  his  promis'd    Bride ; 
Yet  often  .urg'd,  infpiring  faithlefs  eafe, 
That  between  us  Fate  fpread  no  cruel  Seas ; 
Alas  !   in  his  chang'd  Heart  my  eyes  explore, 
Of  Falfehood's  waves, — a  Sea, — without  a  Shore  ! 

Where  Thames  expands  with  Freedom's  wealthy  pride, 
Attractive  Commerce  calls  him  to  her  Tide ; 
As  with  firm  ftep  fhe  runs  along  the  Strand, 
And  points  to  the  tali  Ship,  the  diftant  Land. 
His  rifing  intcrefts  on   the  call  attend. 
For  with  a  Father's  profp'rous  fate  they  blend. 
Thus,  with  thefe  interefls.  Duty's  filial  pow'r 
Unites  to  tear  him  from   Louisa's   bow'r  ; 
But  parting  Sorrows  yield  them  to  the  force 
Of  ftrong  Necefiity's   rcfifllefs  courfe, 
By  gen'rous  Confidence  when  luU'd  to  rejfl. 
That  broods,  on  dove-like  pinion,  o'er  the  breafl ; 
While,  from  kind  letters,  rays  of  joy  pervade 
The  gloomy  moments  of  the  love-fick  Maid  ; 

And 


t      i6     ] 

And  oh  !  how  warm,  how  bright  thofe  letters  glow'd, 
What  ardent  Love,  in  melting  language  flow'd. 
My  deareft  Emma,   thou  wilt  ne'er  explore  j 
The  brilliant  Talifmans  are  mine  no  more  ! 
Pride,  Virgin-Pride,  pronounc'd  the  flern  beheft, 
And  tore  the  faithlels  Scriptures  from  my  breaft  ! 

Thro'  four  fweet  months,  to  my  delighted  eyes 
Thefe  precious   tablets  of  my   blifs   arife  ! 
At  length,  dread  Silence, — torturing  Doubt,  and  Fear, 
Prompt  the  pang'd  iigh — but  check  the  fofter  tear ; 
Thro'  the  lone  Day,  and  lonelier  Night,  impart 
"  The  Hope  deferr'd,  that  maketh  lick  the  Heart." 
Wifh'd  Morning  comes ! — and  Hour  fucceeds  to  Hour  ! 
But  ftill,   Sufpenfe,   and  Terror  o'er  me  low'r  5 
Chace  each  conjedure  kind,  with  fierce  controul, 
And  fend  their  cruel  ice-bolt  thro'  my  Soul. 

Three  wretched  weeks  my  throbbing  bofom  bearsr 
The  wounding  conflict  of  its  various  fears. 
While  Rumour's  voice  inflames  my  grief,  and  pride, 
And  gives  Eugenio  to  a  wealthier  Bride. 

My 


[      17      ] 

My  trembling  hands,   the  fick  fufpenfe  to  eafe, 
From  Day  to  Day  the  public  Records  feize  ; 
While  glances,   rapid  as  the  meteor's  ray, 
Eager  amidft  the  croiided  columns   ftray ; 
Snatch  at  fad  Certainty  from  bufy  Fame, 
Yet  dread  to  meet  my  dear   E  cjgenio's-  Name. 

Now  glooms  on  the  ftain'd  page  the  barb'rous  Truth, 
And  blights  each  blooming  promife  of  my  youth  ! 
E  u  G  E  N  I  o  married  ! — A  nguifh,   and  Defpair, 
In  ev'ry  pompous  killing,  letter  glare  ! 
Thy  Love,   a  Sacrifice  to  glut  thy  Pride  ! — 
Ah  !  what  avail  the  riches  of  thy  Bride  ! 
Can  they  avail,  remorfelefs  as  thou  art, 
To  tear  the  wrong'd  Louisa  from  thy  heart  ? 

Gold,  and  ye  Gems,  that  lurk  in  Eaftern  Cave, 
Or  to  the  Sun  your  gay  refplendence  wave. 
Can  joys  fincere,   one  heart-felt  tranfport  live 
In  ought  ye  purchafe,  or  in  ought  ye  give  ? 
A  Blifs,  to  rival  thofc  thy  avarice  loft, 
Infolvent  India  fhall  but  vainly  boaft ! 

D  Was 


[      .8      ] 

Was  it  for  this  my  gentk  Brother's  heart 
Bore  in  our  growing  Loves   fo- warm  a  part  ! 
That  foft  Indulgence  deck' d  his  open  brows, 
That  Smiles  fraternal  hail'd  our  mutual  vows  f 
And,   as  he  kindly  breath'd  the  parting  ilgh, 
Love's  cryftal  fluid  ruihing  to  his  eye, 
Was  it  for  this  our  blooming  Hopes  he  bleft, 
Seiz'd  our  twin'd  hands,  and  clafp'd  them  to  bis  breaft  ? 
Ah!   did  he  know  his  lov'd   Louisa's   fate. 
What  Energy  wou'd  nerve  his  riling  Hate  !  [ 

Hafte,   my  Lorenzo,  to  thy  Sifter's  aid  ! 
With  thy  fwift  vengeance  be  her  wrongs  repaid ! 
Ye  rifing  Winds,  his  wand'ring  Sails  rcftore  ! 
Ye  refluent  Waters,  bear  him  to  the  Shore  ! 

And  thou,  vain  Bride  !  enjoy  the  Meteor-ray, 
The  fancied  Sun-beam  of  thy  nuptial  Day  ! 
Stern  Fury  waits,  to  quench  its  tranfient  light, 
In  deep,  enfanguin'd,  everlafting  Night ! 
Bleed,  Faithlefs,  bleed! — Louisa's  Wrongs  explor'd. 
Shall  frown  relentlefs  on  her  Brother's  fword  ! 

Rafh, 


I  19  ] 

Rafli,  loft  Louisa  !— could'ft  thou  bear  the  ftrife  ? 

Throw  on  a  fatal  chance  thy  Brother's  life? 
Or   ftrctch,  a^iAim  to  thy  proud  Difdain, 
E  u  G  E  N I  o,  pale,  and  bleeding,  on  the  Plain  ? 
Endure  that  from  a  bofom,  once  fo  dear, 
Convulfive  pangs  the  trembling  Life  fliou'd  tear  ? 
Oh  I   fliould'ft  thou,  certain  of  the  cruel  truth, 
Behold,   in  Fancy's  eye,  the  flaughter'd  Youth, 
Could'ft  thou  that  lov'd,   that  lov^ely  Form  furvey, 
And  fee  it  faded  to  infenfate  Clay  ? 
Eternal  darknefs  on  thofe  eye-lids  hung  ? 
Eternal   ftlence  ftiffen  on  that  tongue  ? 
No  !  wildly,  from  the  bare  furmife,   I  ftart, 
And  treble  fondnefs  ruflies  thro'  my  heart ; 
Live  ! — live  E  u  g  e  n  i  o  ! — free  from  fierce  alarms, 
Bleft,   if  thon  canft,  e'en  in  my  Rival's  arms ! 
O  !   fafc,   thro'  lengtKen'd  years,   may'ft  thou  remain 
From  all  the  varied   forms  of  deathful  Pain  ! 
From  injur'd   Honor's   unrelenting  ire, 
The  blaft  of  Accident,   the  Fever's   fire ! 
A  Soft  may  thofe  dangerous  graces  melt  away. 
And  gently  fink  in  fcarCe  perceiv'd  decay  ! 

D  2  For 


-[  2°  ] 

For  this  mj  breafl:  its  ciirelcfs  w^oes  fhall  hide, 
Nor  fling  frateraal  iX-ove,  nor  g^n-rpus  Pride. 
Yes,   dear  Lorenzo;!'  thou   fhalt  ftill  believe, 
Tho'  much  the  thought  thy  gentle  breaft  will  grieve, 
Louisa,  loft  , to  tend ernefs,   and  truth, 
In  the  vain- levity  of  thoughtlefs  Youth, 
Prov'd  to  EucIenio's:  lovcid.  cold  Ligrate, 
And  lightly  fplenetic  deferv  d  her  fate. 

Cruel  Remenib'rance-!   how  {hall  I  affuage;' 
The  yearning  pangs  of  thy  incefiant  rage  ? 
What  balmy  comfort  can  .the  Heart  pervade. 
When  bitter  tears  his  broken  faith  upbraid, 
Whofe  hand,  we  fondly  hop'd,   fliou'd  wipe  away 
Their  flowing  forrows  thro'  each  future  Day  ? 
Since  in  Reflexion's  grafp  each  BlefUng  dies, 
When  the  forc'd,   ftruggling  Spirit  muft  defpife 
Him,   who  encircled  with  Perfedion's  zone. 
Long  in  our  light  fcarce  lefs  than  Angel  fhone. 
For  if  Credulity  her  warmth  impart. 
With  veils  of  Ligjht  fhe  fcrcens  the  felfifh  Heart ; 


But 


[  "  ] 

But  barb'rous  Perfidy's   fevere  extreme, 

In  fhades  eternal,   fiirouds  each  o-orgeous  beam. 

On  the  arch'd  windows  thus,   that  proudly  grace 
An  high,   majeftic  Temple's   aweful  face. 
When  pours  the  fetting  Sun  its  darting  rays, 
An  hundred  folar  Orbs  appear   to  blaze ; 
But  when  th'  incumbent  fhades  of  lowering  nigrht 
Curtain  the  Source  of  this  illufive  Light, 
Its  evanefcent  fires  no  more  remain. 
But  Horrors  gather  round  the  darken'd  Fane  ; 
The  lofty   Turrets,   defolately  grand, 
In  dreary  ftate,   and  lonely  filence  fland  ; 
Thro'  the  dim  Ailes  pale  Spedlres  feem  to  fleet. 
And  hollow  groans  the  whifp'ring  Walls  repeat. 

So  round   Eugenio's   form,   that  rifes  yet, 
'Midft  Pride's  cold  frown^   and  Paflion's  warm  regret, 
Deprived  of  all   the   luftre  it  retained, 
When  gay  Belief  with  funny  liue  remain'd, 
Inceflant  now  the  Fiends  of  avarice  glide. 
With  dark  Ambition  fcowling  at  their  fide. 

Detefted 


[  "  ] 

Detefled  impoteiice  of  flatter'd  charms, 
That  cou'd  not  bind  my  Wand'fer  to  my  arms  1 
Ah !  what  avail'd  your  beauties,  but  to  lure 
That  fleeting   Love,  ye  knew  not  to  fecure ! 

Like  opening  flow'rs,  that  deck  the  dcfart  Glade, 
Fair  to  no  purpofe,  flatter'd  Graces  fade ! 
One  healing  draught — and  all  fhall  yet  be  well ! 
"  Peace  is  the  pale-ey'd  Sifter  of  the  Cell," 
The  cell  of  DEATH — ^where  Mif'ry  only  knows 
The  foft  exemption, — and  the  long  repofe. 

Ah  no ! — a  guardian  Spirit  feems  to  fay, 
"  Stay  thee,  Louisa,  yet  a  little  ftay  ! 
Awake  not  righteous  Heav'n's  avenging  Hate 
By  raflily  plunging  in  the  waves  of  Fate  ! 
Tho'  Time,   for  woes  like  thine,  admits  no  cure. 
Yet  learn  its  hardeft  leflbn,   to  endure ! 
Not  long  fhall  Life  her  torturing  fenfe  impart 
Of  the  barb'd  fhaft,  that   rankles  in  thy  heart. 
Thou  flialt  not  need  to  ftain  thy  fpotlefs  Soul, 
Nor  want  th'  enfanguin'd  knife,   th'  envenom'd  bowl  ; 

Thy 


C    n    3 

Thy  Soul's  Belov'd,   by  vain  ambition  iir'd, 
Deaf,  as  the  Grave,   to  all  that  once  infpir'd, 
To  Love's  foft  voice,— to  Honor's  awful  plea, 
Lives  to  another! — and  is  loft  to  thee!" 

EuGENio  7narried  \ — Oh  ! — yon  Village-bell, 
That  flings  on  the  cold  Gale  its  mournful  knell  ! 
The  folemn  paufe, — the  loud  repeated  toll, 
Calling  the  pale  Corfe  to  its  darkfome    goal, 
Not  plainer  there  the  tale  of  Death  relate, 
Than  thefe  detefted  words  pronounce  my  fate  ! 
EuGENio  married^   feals  Louisa's  doom. 
Her  fure,  tho'  ling'ring  pafsport  to  the  tomb  ! 

And  thou,  foft  Mourner  o'er  my  bofom's  fmart ! 
Friend  of  my  Soul,  and  Sifter  of  my  Heart ! 
A  fallen  Bloffom  while  thy  tears  embalm, 
Regrets  that  Fondnefs  prompts,  let  Fondnefs  calm  j 
Since  tho'  this  mortal  Frame,   Affe(n:ion's  Have, 
Waftes  by  th'  envenom'd  wound  that  Falfehood  gave, 
I  ftill  poflefs,  thus  withering  in  my  youth, 
AThe  peace  of  Innocence,  the  pride  of  Truth  j 

My 


[      24      ] 

My  Soul  is  confcious  of  its    heav'nly    Sire, 

The  Cherub  Faith  has  lent  her  wings  of  fire  ; 

Man,   the  bafe  objedl  of  my  fcorn,   it   leaves,  ' 

To  join  that  gracious  Povv'r,   that  ne'er  deceives  1 

When  bufy  Rumours   to  thy  ear  difclofe 
The  long  enfranchifement  of  all  my  woes, 
Oh  !   let  thy  Mind's   pure  eye  behold  me  foar 
Where  Light,   and  Life  from  Springs  unfailing  pour  ! 
Mark  the  bright  circlets  of  th'  eternal  Morn, 
In  radiant  points,   my  fmiling  brows  adorn  ! 
By  kindred  Seraphs  fee  thy  Friend  embrac'd, 
Not  one  flight  thought  on  falfe  E  u  g  e  n  i  o  wafte  ! 
Yet,   tho'  from  Pain,   and  Grief  for  ever  free. 
Throw  back  foft  Pity's  tender  glance  on  thee  \ 
Smile  at  the  human  weaknefs  of  thy  tears, 
And  long  to  welcome  thee  to  HAPPIER  SPHERES  ! 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  EPISTLE. 


SECOND      EPISTLE. 


E      U      G     E      N      I      O 


T  O 


EMMA, 


ON    HER    RETURN    FROM    THE    EAST  -  INDIES. 


April    15,  1781. 

START    not,  dear  Emma,   at  an  haplefs  name, 
Veil'd  to  thy  fenfe  in  perfidy  and  fhame  ! 
Oh !  deep  indeed  the  mifts,  they  long  have  fpread, 
To  Fancy's  eye,   round  this  devoted  head  ! 
While  deeper  ftill  the  fhades  of  anguifh  low'r, 
Drear  as  the  Night  upon  the  wint'ry  Bow'r, 

E  When 


[      ^6     ] 

When  bitter  Winds  howl  fearful  o'er  the  plains, 
And  the  bright  Stars  are  c^uench'd  amid  the  rains  ! 
So  qnench'd  each  fmiling  Pleafure's  rofeate  ray, 
That  once  illumin'd  loft  E ug e n i (>'^.  way  1 

But,  e'er  his  tortur'd  Soul's  inceffant  ftrife 
Burfl:  the  dark  confines  of  difaft'rous  Life, 
Given,  or  with-held,    by  Emma's   guardian  hands, 
As  her  Friend's  peace  hereafter  beft  demands, 
Will  flie  receive  Eugenio's   laft  requeft. 
In  faithful  truft  for  her  Lo  u  i  s  a's  breaft, 
Hear  his  fad  ftory — that  yet  dares  appear 
To  claim  her  juftice,  and  implore  her  tear  ? 

If  fo,  let  now  thy  gentle  heart  incline 
To  mourn  the  trials,  and  the  pangs  of  mine  1 
No  longer  fhalt  thou  think  I  bafely  fold 
My  peace,  my  liberty,  my  love,  for  gold ; 
That  gold  did  purchafe  them,  we  know  too  well, 
But  Oh  I    no  fordid  facrifice  they    fell  ! 
Learn  then  thofe  dire  Events,  whofe  tyrant  fway 
Forc'd  me  to  throw  joy's  vital  root  away, 

Yield 


[      ^7      ] 
Yield  my  Louisa  to  their  ftern  controul. 
Gem  of  my  Youth  !    and  Day-Star  of  my  Soul ! 

To  thee,  fo  long  accuftom'd  to  difclofe 
Whate'er  on  Life  the  ftrengthen'd  colour  throws, 
To  thee  Louisa   queftionlefs  appeal'd  ; 
Reveal'd  my  vows,   my  broken  faith  reveal'd  ; 
Taught  thee,  thro'  fcenes,  now  paft  and  gone,    to  rove, 
And  hate  the  mean  apoflate   to  his  love. 

Veil'd  by  her  native  Groves,  I  left  the  Maid, 
And  journied  onward  from  that  blooming  Glade, 
With  eyes,    full  oft  reverted  as  I   pafs'd. 
With  many  a  look  to  Heav'n  in  fervor  caft, 
To  implore  protedion  for  Louisa's  peace. 
Her  Health's  dear  fafety,  and  our  Love's  increafe. 

E'er  yet  I  join'd  the  animated   Train, 
Whofe  full-fraught  Veffels  feek  the  ports  of  Gain, 
To  that  domeftic  fcene   I   bent  my  way. 
Which  far  in  Deva's  woodland  mazes  lay  ; 

E  2  A  rural 


[       28       ] 

A  rural,   kind  Retreat  from  all  the  cares, 
Which  bufy  Commerce  for  her  Sons  prepares. 
Tranflucent  Deva  the  green  Valley  laves, 
And  darkling  Alders  fcreen  her  vvand'ring  waves, 
Till  flow  fhe  rifes  from  o'er-hanging  Shades, 
And,   feen  at  diftance,  thro'  the  opening  Glades, 
With  bank  lefs  veil'd,  and  ftrearas  that  mildly  fhine, 
Leads  round  the  lonely  Hills  her  iilver  line. 

In  that  fweet  Dale,  and  by  a  Mountain's  fide, 
Whofe   fhelt'ring  heights  the  angry  North  deride, 
Abode,   f©  late,   of  Cheerfulnefs  and   Eafe, 
White  gleams  the  Manlion  thro'  the  waving  Trees ! 
Tall  are  the  Trees  that  whifper  round  its  Walls, 
And  foft  the  pathway  down  the  Valley  falls  ! 
Oh  !    how  each  charm,  that  decks  the  quiet  fcene, 
AfTum'd  new  grace,  and  wore  a  fofter  mein, 
From  the  bleft  thought,  that  foon  the  nuptial  Hour 
Wou'd  lead  Louisa   to  my  native  bow'r  ! 

'Twas  there  my  gentle  Parents  often  knew 
The  calm  fweet  Night,  the  Day  that  lightly  flew  ; 

And 


[     29     ] 

And  there  the  heart-felt  pleafure  gaily  lliew'd 

EuGENio's   welcome  to  the  green  abode. 

A  Father's   elevating  gladnefs,    prov'd 

How  dear  the  prefence  of  the  Son  he  lov'd. 

My  gentle  Mother,  archly  fmiling,   preft 

The  love-lick  Wand'rcr  to  her  honor' d  breaft ; 

For  fo  fhe  fondly  call'd  her  darling  Youth, 

Yet  lov'd  his  ardor,  and  approv'd  his  truth. 

My  Sifters,  fair,  ingenuous,   graceful  Maids, 

Th'  acknowledg'd  pride  of  all  the  neighbouring  Shades, 

Met  me  with  bounding  ftep,  and  joyous  mein. 

And  rays  of  tranfport  brighten'd  all  the  fcene. 

Nor  wilt  thou,  mighty  Love  !    upbraid  my  Heart, 
For  bearing  in  their  joys  fo  warm  a  part ; 
Since  no  ambition  gloom'd  my  Father's  brow. 
No  thlrft  of  wealth  reproach'd  my  plighted  vow  ; 
He  fcorn'd  to  name  Louisa's  want  of  gold, 
But  gladly  liften'd  while  her  worth  I  told. 
Pleas'd  has  he  feen  her  in  this  melting  eye, 
Pleas'd  with  her  name,  half  whifper'd  in  a  figh  ; 

Then 


[     30     3 
Then  wou'd  I  grafp  his  hand,  and  ardent  fay, 
"  Oft  riiall  my  Parents  blefs  our  bridal  Day, 
Since  from  that  Soul  of  fweetnefs,  they  fhall  fhare 
A  Daughter's  tendernefs,   an  Angel's  care  ; 
For  hers  each  Virtue,  and  each  Grace  refin'd, 
That  breathe  on  Lovelinefs  the  glov/  of  Mind, 
And,  with  aiTiduous  Duty's  cheering  pow'r. 
Strew  Life's  worn  path  with  ev'ry  filial  flow'r." 

One  Eve,   as  on  the  fhady  bank  I  rode, 
Where  thro'  new  Dales  the  beauteous  Deva  flow'd, 
Loit'ring  I  liften  to  the  Red-breaft  clear, 
The  laft,   lone  Songfter  of  the  waining  Year. 
Lifrht  o'er  the  leaves  fweet  Autumn  breathes  ferene. 
And  tips  with  gold  their  yet  untaded  green. 
Now  many  a  vapor  blue  the  ftream  exhales. 
And  Twilight  fteals  unheeded  on  the  Vales. 
O'er  the  hill-top  the  lines  of  crimfon  run. 
The  glowing  raiments  of  the  vanifh'd  Sun. 
Nor  yet  the  deep'ning  (liades  of  Night  impede 
My  roving  courfe,  which  penfive  mufings  lead. 

What 


[     31      ] 

What  time  the  *  Moon  of  Ceres  mildly  throws 
Her  fhadowy  grace,  and  breathes  her  foft  repofe 
O'er  the  dark  Shrubs,  that  clothe  the  rocky  Steeps, 
Shelve  from  their  tops,  and  fringe  the  cryftal  Deeps ; 
While,  as  around  thofe  Rocks  the  River  glides, 
White  moon-beams  tremble  in  the  glancing  tides. 

Sudden,  wild  founds  are  borne  along  the  gales ! 
The  picrciiig  fhriek  my  ftartled  ear  affails ! 
But  fcarce  a  moment,  with  checked  rein,  I  ftand, 
Th'  uplifted  cane  grafp'd  fternly  in  my  hand. 
E'er  bending  forward  o'er   my  eager   Horfe, 
Urging,  with  needlefs  fpur,  his  rapid  courfe, 
And  plunging  thro'  the  deep,  oppoling  flood, 
I  pierce  the  tangled  mazes  of  the  Wood. 
On  fib'rous  Oaks,   that  roughen  all  the  ground, 
My  Steed's  fleet  hoofs,  with  hollow  noife,  refound  ; 
And  doubled  by  the  echoes  from  the  caves. 
Appal  a  guilty   band  of  delp'rate   Slaves ; 
For  loon,   in  ruthlefs,     felon-gripe,   I  found 
A  beauteous  Female,  fcreaming  on  the  ground ; 

Dragg'd 

*  Moon  of  Ceres,    the  Harvcft  Moon. 


[      3^      ] 
Dragg'd  from  her  Horfe,  that  graz'd  unconfcious  near, 
Her  treffes  torn,  and  frantic  with  her  fear. 
Two  liv'ried  Youths,  attendant  on  the  Maid, 
At  the  firft  onfet  in  that  gloomy   Glade, 
Had,  or  feduced  by  Gold,  or  wing'd  by  dread, 
From  danger,  and  from  duty,  coward  fled.  • 

Alarm'd,  the  Villains  quit  their  ftruggling  Prey, 
And  two,  with  terror  ftruck,  fpeed  faft  away. 
Fiercer  the  third,   the  arm  of  blood,  extends; 
The  levell'd  tube,   in  dire  diredlion,  bends ! 
Yet  no  cold  fear  arrefts   my  vengeful   force, 
And  his  wing'd  death-ball  flies  with  erring  courfe ; 
But  not  defcends  my  nervous  blow  in  vain. 
The  hidden  lead  indents  the  Murd'rer's  brain  ; 
With  one  demoniac  glance,   as  down  he  fell, 
The  Soul  ftarts  furious  from  its  vital  cell. 

Then  tender  Pity,   and  afliduous  care,  ./  • 

Condu(ft  me  fwiftly  to   the  fwooning  Fair. 
The  light,  cool  drops,  fcoop'd  from  the  neighb'ring  Spring, 
O'er   her  pale  brow  folicitous  I  fling ; 

Till 


[      33     ] 

Till  Life's  warm  tide,  which  long  the  Heart  detains, 
Returns,  flow  purpl'ing  the  forfaken  veins. 

In  one  deep  figh,  as  Recolledlion  came, 
It  wakens  Gratitude's  impetuous  flame. 

"  For  more  than  Life,"  exclaims  the  trembling  Maid, 
**  I   ftand  indebted  to  thy  gen'rous  aid." 


*  Ceafe,  Fair-One,  ceafe. — ^^well  might  this  arm  deferve 
That  deadlieft  Palfles  wither   ev'ry  nerve, 
Had  it  refus'd   the  aid  to  thee  it  gave, 
Or  coward   fliunn'd  the  duty  of  the  Brave  ! 
But  let  me  now,   fince  danger  haunts  delay. 
To  fafer  fcenes  my  lovely  Charge  convey. 
Deep  in  yon  vale,   Ernesto's  modeft  Dome 
Lifts  its  fair  head — -my  tranquil,  happy  home  ! 
There  ev'ry  welcome  fliall  her  fteps  receive, 
That  hofpitable  affluence  knows  to  give.' 


This  faid,  her  trembling  Form,  with  anxious  hafte. 
My  twining  arms  on  her  light  Courfer  placed  ; 

F  Then, 


[      3+     ] 
Then,  as  emerging  from  the  darkling  Wood, 
Along  the  moon-bright  Dales  we  flowly  rode, 
Surpris'd  his  gorgeous  trappings   I  behold, 
The  net  of  Silver,   and  the  thongs  of  gold  ; 
While  all  the  veftments  of  the  lovely  Dame 
The  pride  of  elevated  rank  proclaim. 
The  coftly  lace  had  golden  leaves    impreft 
Light  on  the  borders  of  the  pearly  veft  ; 
Her  taper  waift  the  broider'd  zone  entv/ines,  ^ 

Clafp'd  by  a  gem,   the  boaft  of  Orient  Mines  ; 
On  as  we  pafs,   on   ev'ry  lide   it  gleams. 
And  to  the  Moon,  in  trembling  luftre,  ftreams ! 

Dear  Emma,  that  the  fplendid  garb  cou'd  gain, 
E'en  in  an  hour  exempt  from  grief  and  pain 
Th'  attentive  gaze,   proves  my  devoted  heart 
From  eyes  fo  bright  met  no  refiftlefs  dart ; 
For  when  the  Maid  Love's  potent  ceftus  wears, 
The  jealous  God  no  glance  dividual  bears. 

Ah  !  in  thofe  halcyon  days,  a  Mind  at  eafe 
Empower'd  flight  things  to  intereft,  and  to  pleafe  ; 

That 


[     35     ] 

That  Mem'ry  fliould  their  faded  tints  relume, 

When  Deprivation's  deepeft  fliadows   gloom, 

Perhaps  feems  ftrange  ! — but  now,   that  full,  and  free, 

My  long  imprifon'd   Spirit   fprings  to  thee, 

Friend  of  my  Love  !      to  whom  I  dare  reveal 

All  that  my  Soul  has  felt,   or  knows  to  feel, 

So  foften'd  feem  th'  afperities  of  Grief, 

My   Senfes  anchor  on   the    kind   relief; 

With  trivial  circumftance  retard  the  pen. 

E'er   languid  Solitude  iliall  lovv'r  again  y 

For  oh  !  when  loft  in  woes  of  lengthen'd  date, 

Alone  we've  lean'd  upon  the  thorn  of  Fate, 

Seeking,   at  laft,   the  kind  afiualive   reft, 

Found  only  on  Compaifion's  downy  breaft, 

We  feel,   as  foft  th'  imparted  Sorrows  flow, 

Almoft  difcharg'd  the  bitternefs  of  Woe. 

Within  Ernesto's   hofpitable  gates, 
Alarm'd  at  my    delay,   Affedlion  waits ; 
But  as  I  lead  the  bright  diftinguifti'd  Maid, 
Explain  her  danger,   and  my  profp'rous   aid, 

F  2  11k- 


[     36     ] 

The  dear  Inhabitants  around  her  move, 

With  deep  refped,  kind  care,  and  gen'rous  love.        7 

And  foon  we  learn,  our  peaceful  walls  contain 
The  fplendid  Heirefs  of  a  vaft  Domain, 
Emir  A,   fhe,  vt^hofe  wealth,  and  charms  infpire, 
The  croud  of  titled  Youth  with  am'rous   fire  ; 
While  Rumour  paints  her,  'midft  th'  obfequious  Train, 
Tho'  frolic,   infolent,   tho'  haughty,  vain. 
But  to  our  eyes,   thefe  wild  and  wand'ring  fires 
Are  fcreen'd  by  dfing  Hopes,   and  gay   Defires ; 
For  ftill,   the  parting  Hour  with  care  delay'd, 
Emir  A  loiters  in  Ernesto's   fhade ; 
The   noon-tide  Sun,   the  Evening's  fofter  ray 
Beholds  the  Fair-One  thro'  the  Valley  ftray  ;      '  • '^ 

Thus,   on  *  Matilda  leaning,   fondly  own 
Her  Heart's  new  choice  in  PaiHon's  warmeft  tone. 

"  Loft  to  the  World,  for  ever  could  I  dwell 
*'  In  the  dear  precinds  of  this  fylvan  Cell  j 

*'  Renounce 

*  EuGENio's  Sifter. 


t      37      ] 
**  Renoiince  each  vain,   tho'  once  ador'd  delight,    ■      • 
"  That  4yripates  the  Day,'  or  gilds  the  Night ;    .     i-iT 
"  That  can  each  gay  feducing  art  employ,       ru  vi/^il' 
To  flatter  Beauty,  and  infpirit  Joy." 


(C 


Thus  the  proud  Maid,  of  all  her  fcorn  difarm'd. 
By  flrange,   and  partial  preference  flrongly  charm'd, 
Feels  a  new  Eden  ileal  upon  the  bow'rs, 
And  chides  with  iighs  the  fwiftly  fleeting  Hours; 
Still  at  the  cheerful  Board,  or  as  fhe  roves 
Along  the  Plain,  or  lingers  in  th^  Groves, 
Each  glowing  wifli,  from  new-born  Pafllon  fprung, 
Each  foft  diforder,  on  her  eye-lids  hung, 
At  my  approach  reveal,    tho'  much  in  vain, 
What  words  are  little  wanted"  to  explairfi-bboO  3ril 
Vain!  had  I  never  feen  the  matchlefs  grace,  ' 

The  touching  fweetnefs  of  Loui-sa's  face; 
Where  from -each  feature  beaiiis,   or  mildly  plays, 
Refined  intelligence,   with  varying  rays  ; 
Where  native  dignity,   with  air  ferene, 
Confcious,  not  arrogant,   adorns  her  mein ; 

While 


[      38      ] 

While  from  thbfe  eyes,   in  fcorn  of  artful  wiles, 

The  tender  fpotlefs  Soul  looks  out,  and  fmiles.- — 

Thefe  unbeheld,   yet  ftill  Emira's  charms 

Had  ne'er  allur'd  Eugenio  to  her  arms-;' 

For  oh  !   the  fever'd  languor  of  the  eye, 

The  reftlefs  bluflies,.  the  voluptuoois  figh^j  -jrh  ?;jffT 

Th'  impatient  haughtinefs,   but  half  conceal' d:>.ii.i^i  (u. 

The  rage  of  pleafure  iiveach  glance  revxal'dv-rt  i? 

Tho', in. youth's  fervid  hours,   perchance,  ithey  fire 

The  kindling  ardours  of  unaw'd   Defire, 

Quench,  while  the  tranfiertt  flames  their  force  impart^. 

The  torch  of  Paffion,   e'er  it  reach  the  Heart..  -. [■;   doLll 

'Twas  thus  the  youthful  Ithacan   furvey'd 
The  Goddefs  Nymph,   beneath  her  magic  Shade; 
While  Eucharis'  mild  beauties  foil'd  the  fway 
Of  charms,   that  deck'd  the  Daughter  of  the  Day  ; 
By  Love  protedled,   when  the  Princely  Boy 
Beheld  the  Dame  her  wonted  lures  employ  ; 
Saw  her  fine  Form,   by  all  the  Graces  dreft, 
The  glowing  purple  of  the  floating  vefl, 

And, 


[     39     ] 

And  on  her  blooming  cheek  the  treffes  bright, 
That  play'd  in  wavy  wreaths  of  golden  light, 
Or  on  her  fnowy  bofom,   fhining  fell, 
Like  a  warm  Sun-beam  oa  a  Lilly's  bell. 

Not  more  Emir  a's  charms  my  Soul  engage, 
The  fair  Calypfo  of  a  fenfual  age  ; 
And  than  licentious  Beauty  lefs, '  the  (lores 
That  fplendid  Fortune   on  Emir  a  pours; 
Or  the  proud  boaft  of  lineal  Blood,   allied 
To  Rank,   and  Pow'r,  could  wake  that  fenfelefs  Pride, 
Which  quenches  the  foft  warmth  that  Love  infpires. 
And  lights  the  nuptial  torch  with  raylefs  fires. 

To  fave  the  Fair-One  from  the  thorny  fmart 
Of  hopelefs  Paflion,   rankling  in  her  heart, 
I  urge  iny-  gentle  Sifters  to  reveal 
All   my  charm'd  fenfes    for   Louisa   feci ; 
The  worth,   the  graces,  which  around  her  wait, 
And  all  the  fmiling  profped  of  our  fate. 

E  M  I  R  A 


C    40    I 

Em  IRA  Hftens  with  impaiHon'd  fcorn, 
Of  wounded  Pride,  .&vsd  rival  Anger  born.i  b'"»(jaq  i^dV 
Unwifh'd,  unwelcome^  as  the  theine  arofe^        A  no  lO 
Her  clouded  cheek  in.  deep  fiaffufion  glows,  j.Uwj 

Proudly  exclaiming, — "  Can  Eugenio  prove 
''  Cold,  ^ad  obdupate  t€)  my  lavifh  Love?  ~A 

"  Has  Beauty's  magje  zoiie  toy  bofom  bound, 
"  Does  Rank  exdlt  me,  anid  has  Fbrtune  crown'dy 
*'  That  faint  attradlions^  in '^  Village  Maid  .'jl  IcdT 

"  Should  fhield  the  Paffions  which  thefe  eyes  irtV'ade  ? ' 
"  Irhpoffible  ! — but  oh  !   thy  lips  impart 
"  The  fting  of  jealoufy,  that  goads  my  heart. --'-  rh-iW 
"Matilda,  all  my  waking  dreams  divine  -^' 

"  Thy  charming  Brother  fhall  at  length  be  mine! 
"  This  groveling  flame  was  but  ordain'd  to  prove 
"  Thy  Friend's  wifh'd  triumph  at  the  fhrine  of  Love, 
"  And  by  comparifon  of  brighter  charms, 
**  To  light  Eugenio  to   Emi  r a's  arms." 

Thus,  while  felf-flatt'ring  Pride  her  Mind  aflures. 
The  artful  Fair-One  fpreads  her  varied  lures ; 

Sometimes 


r  4t  ] 

Sometimes,  with  archnefs  laughing  in  her  eyes, 

Hangs  on  my  arm,   and  ridicules  my  iighs ; 

And  oft  with  coyer  tendernefs  appears, 

While  Love's  warm  glances  fteal  thro'  fhining  tears ; 

Now,  with  arch'd  brow,   and  fupercilious  ftare, 

Affedls  the  emprefs-dignity  of  air  ; 

And  now,  as  reas'ning  with  a  wayward  Heart, 

In  trances,  broken  by  the  frequent  ftart, 

With  paufing  ftep  fhe  wanders  thro'  the  Grove, 

A  female  Proteus  in  the  wiles  of  Love ! 

To  mufe  at  leifure  on  my  lovely  Maid, 

And  woo  her  image  in  the  lonely   Glade, 

Where  no   Emir  a,   by  the  rigid  laws 

Politenefs  dictates,  my  attention  draws. 

Far  in  the  Wilds  I  wander  thro'  the  Day, 

And  to  a  lowly  Cot  at  midnight  ftray  ; 
AThere  tafte  the  fweetnefs  of  that  deep  repofe, 
/  vWhich  from  applauding  Confcience  gently  flows, 
>  When  Health,   and  Hope  their  downy  pinions  fpread, 
,  And  fcattcr  rofcs   on  the  youthful  bed. 

G  Light 


[      42      ] 
Light  with  the  Dawn  difperfe  my  tender  dreams  ; 
And  now  the  Sun  looks  golden  on  the  ftreams ! — 
O  Morn  !   the  laft  for  me  that  gaily  rofe, 
On  Mem'ry's  tablet  flill  thy  beauty  glows. 
Charm'd,   as  I  wander'd  thro'   the   dewy  Vale, 
And  drank  the  fpirit  of  the  Mountain-gale, 
How  little   did   my  unconfcious    heart  divine. 
The  joys  thou  gav'ft  fliould  ne'er  again  be  mine  ! 

On  as   I  rov'd  along  the  winding  Glades, 
A  Youth  in  hafte  the  fylvan   Copfe  pervades ! 
Says,  his  commiilion  inftantly  recalls 
My  devious  ftep   to   the  paternal  walls., 
Upon  the  ruftic  countenance  appears 
A  fix'd  folemnity,  that  wakes  my  fears. — 
*'  Oh  !   is  all  well  ?" — with  breathlefs  hafle  I  cry, 
"  Thy  Friends  are  well," — his  falt'ring  lips  reply ,j. 
Then  dread,  left  fad  intelligence  invade 
The  precious  quiet  of  my   native  Shade,. 
Sickens  my  heart ; — and  fwiftly  as  I  go. 
From  ray  pale  lip  diforder'd  accents  flow  ; , 

Eacli 


[     43      ] 

Each  moment,  for  Louis  a's  Life,  arife 
Pray'rs,   that  implore  the  mercies  of  the  Skies. 

And  now  my  quick,   unequal  fteps  are  led, 
A  Day  of  gladnefs  where  they  us'd  to  fpread  ; 
But  ah  !  no  filvcr  tones  E  u  g  e  n  i  o   call ! 
No  bounding  foot-flep  meets  me  in  the  hall ! 
Sufpenfe,  with  all  its  heavy  heart-ach,  teems. 
And  palpable  the  folemn  ftillnefs  feems ! 

So,  when  returning  from  the  well- fought  plain. 
As  near  thy  Caflle-walls  thou  led'ft  thy  Train, 
O  *  Hardiknute  !   fuch  pangs  as  thefe  oppreft, 
In  Hope's  warm  hour,  thy  brave,  and  vet'ran  breaft. 
Along  the  midnight  glooms,   that    thick  impend. 
While  howls  the  Storm,   the  beating  Rains  defcend, 
Thou  fee'ft  no  Guard  upon  thy  turrets  height, 
Whofe  ftreaming  torches  us'd   to  gild  the  night ! 
Black,  as  a  mourning  weed,   they  lilent  ftand, 
And  daunt  the  ftoutcft  heart  in  Scotia's   Land  I 

G  2  Ap- 

*  See  tlic  admired  fcotch  fragment,  Hardiknute,  in  Percy's  collection  of  ancient  poetry. 


[      44      ] 
Appall'd,  like  him,   I  felt  the  ftillnefs  dire  ; 
Eager  to  learn — not  daring  to  enquire, 
As  one  transfix'd,   a  few  dread  minutes  wait, 
While  filent  Horror  fhrouds  impending  Fate! 

My  Father  enter' d — ^with  a  cheek  how  pale  ! 
And  oh  !   that  look  1 — it  told  an  awful  tale  ! 
'Twas   mournful  ! — fupplicating  ! — "  Heav'nly  Pow'rs  1 
^*  In  that  dim  gaze  how  deep  an  anguifli  low'rs  ! 
**  Louisa  t   lives  fhe  ?" — dreading  the  reply. 
My  Soul  hung  trembling  in  my  ftraining  eye. 

"  My  Son,   the  fweet  Louisa  lives, — and  knows,.,;,- 
"  I  hope,  the  peace  that  Innocence  beftows ; 
**   Oh  !   may  it  long  be  her's  ! — but  now  remains 
"  A  tafk  for  me,  replete  with  fliarpeft  pains !«— ■ 
**  EuGENio! — Penury's  dire  blafts  affail, 
"  And  Hope  is  frozen  in  the  bitter  gale ! 
"  Yes, — B  ELM  OR  has  deceiv'd  my  boundlefs  truft, 
"  To  Friendfhip  treach'rous,  and  to  Faith  unjuft  I 
"  Unhappy  Hour,   when  Confidence  intire 
"  Lur'd  me  to  follow  that  milleading  fire, 

«  Thofe 


It     45     J 
"  Thofe  gay  commercial  vifions,  falfe,  and  vain, 
"  The  glitt'ring  meteors  of  his  artfiil  brain ! 
*'  Too  well  he  knew  no  genuine  light  they  gave, 
"  And  now  they  fink  in  Ruin's  whelming  wave ! 

"  Oh  !  great,  and  numberlefs  the  Ills,  that  fpread 
"  Their  mingled  horrors  round  this  aged  head  ! 
**  The  pang  of  feeing  thy  fweet  Sifters,  born 
"  To  faireft  hopes,   from  eafe,  and  affluence  torn! 
"  Expos'd  to  all  thofe  guileful  fnares,  that  wait 
"  The  beauteous  Indigent's  difaftrous  fate ! 
"  Ills,  whofe  bare  dread  a  Father's  bofom  tears, 
"  And  blends  with  agony  his  anxious  cares. 
"  Thy  dearer  Mother  !" — ^Here  he  turn'd  his  head 
And  paufing,  wept ; — at  length  refuming,  faid, 

"  Thefe  hovering  woes,  that  o'er  our  houfe  impend, 
"  Thou,   my  dear  Son,  e'er  their  dread  weight  defcend, 
"  Thou  canft  avert ! — but  oh  !  at  what  a  price  ! 
**  Perfuafion  fhall  not  urge — nor  pray'rs  intice. 


a 


Two 


[     -46     ] 

"  Two  hours  e'er  thy  return,  Emir  a  found 
"  Thy  Sifters  eyes  in  ftreaming  torrents  drown'd ; 
*'  Learn'd,  from  their  trembUng  lips,  the  cruel  Caufe, 
*^  Which  the  dark  cloud  of  confternation  draws 
"  Wide  o'er  my  Roof — that  yefterday  furvey'd, 
*'  Domeftic  Comfort's  fair,  and  fav'rite.fhade. 

"  We  know  that  Fortune  on  Emir  a  pours 
*'  Her  golden  treafures  in  unftinted  fliow'rs.— - 
"  EuGENio  ! — fhe  ftands  ready  to  replace 
"  Thy  Father's  comforts  on   a  lading  bafe  ! 
* '  Refcue  his  falling  Fame  ! — the  numbers  fave, 
"  Whofe  hopes  in  his  deftrudion  find  a  grave ; 
"  And  lisht,  while  Woe's  dark  cloud  her  wealth  removes, 
"  Joy's  living  fpark  in  many  an  eye  he  loves ! 
"  But  at  the  price — Great  God  ! — thy  Father's  fears 
"  Shrink  from  the  found,  and  whelm  it  with  his  tears ! 
*'  By  {harp  Diftrefs  at  laft  to  name  it  driv'n  ! — 
"  Thy  hand  to  her, — e'en  at  the  ALTAR  giv'n  ! — 
*'  Alas  !   th'   impoffibility   e'en  now 
*'  Glooms  in  the  grief,   the  horror  of  thy  brow ! — 

"Oh! 


[     +7      I 

"  Oh  1  for  myfelf- — I  could  not  wifh  to  gain 
"  Exemption  from  the  fharpeft  earthly  pain, 
"  By  banifliing  each  hope,  his  Love  had  won, 
"  From  the  kind,  duteous  bofom  of  my  Son ! 
"  But  for  their  dearer  fakes  who  fall  with  me, 
"  Perhaps  I  dare — to  hope  e'en  /i6w  from  thee. 

*'  Thou  know^ft,  when  Peace,  and  Plenty's  jocund  Pow'rs 
"  Hung  their  ripe  clufters  round  our  blooming  bow'rs, 
**  The  joys  that  Love,  not  thofe  which  Wealth  impart, 
**  Form'd  the  warm  wifli  for  thee,  that  fiU'd  my  heart ; 
"  But  now — Eugenic  liften  ! — -could'ft  thou  bear 
"  Louisa's  breaft  this  weight  of  woes  fhould  fhare  ? 
"  Would'ft  thou  the  bloffoms  of  her  youth  tranfplant 
**  Into  the  blafting  foil  of  worldly  Want  ? 
"  Whofe  pangs,  tho'  ne'er  her  foft  complaints  reveal, 
**  She  will  not  therefore  lefs  feverely  feel  ; 
**  Since  when  a  breaft,   far  dearer  than  our  own, 
*'  Receives  the  darts  by  that  fell  Demon  thrown, 
*'  Faft  wafting  health,   and   fpirits  broke,   will  prove, 
**  Far  from  extraded,  they  are  barb'd  by  Love," 

Here 


Q      4^!^     II 
Here  fighs,  that  feem'd  to  fhake  his  frame,  betray'd 
How  deep  he.  felt  the  forrows  he  pourtrayM;/ 
But  yet,  tho'  ftill'  his  heart  with,  anguifli  bled, 
Fail'd  fpeech  recovering  foon,  again  he  faid, 

"  It  is  not  much  my  waining  Life's  remains. 
"  Should  fhorten'd  fink  by  Penury's  cruel  pains ; 
"  Ah  !  rather  could  I  bear  their  utmoft  ftrife, 
"  Than  wifli  to  quench  the  torch  that  gilds  thy  Life, 
"  Sweet  PoJJibility  !  which  yet  appears, 
"  Borne  on  th'  eventful  flight  of  days,  and  years, 
**  Whofe  chance  propitious  might  each  bar  remove 
*'  Or  Induftry  reftore  the  joys  of  Love  ; 
"  Tho'  fharp  the  confcioufnefs,  that  Belmor's  art 
"  Muft  to  my  Fame  the  deadlieft  wound  impart! 
"  For  oh  !  the  Many,  who  their  ruin  owe 
"  To  my  rafh  hopes   unhappy  overthrow, 
*'  Will,  without  fcruple,  think  by  fraud  I  won 
"  The  confidence,  which  drew  that  ruin  on. 

"  Hard  to  refign,  for  fuch  opprobrious  blame, 
"  The  honeft  triumph  of  a  fpotlefs  name; 

"  E'en 


[      49      ] 

*'  E'en  when  the  Heart  dares  to  itfelf  appeal 

"  From  blind   Injuftice,  and  mifguided   Zeal  ! 

"  Their   torrent  Reafon  ftrives   to  ftcm  in  vain, 

*'  Truth  pleads   to   Air,    if  Prejudice  arraign. 

"  Her  cenfures  daily  level  with  the  Bafe 

"  A   thou  land   names,    no  adtual   crimes  difgrace  ; 

"  Pull   down   the    fame   a  Life  of   virtue  built, 

"  And   ftamp  Imprudence  with  the  brand  of  Guilt. 

"  And  yet,  I  would  not  afk  my  Child  to  fave 

"  From  Pains,  that  feem  to  rob  of  reft  the  Grave^ 

"  My  haplefs  Spirit,  at  a  price  fo  great, 

"  Perchance   a  deeper  fhadow  o'er  his  fate  ! 

"But,  oh!   my  lov'd  Eugenio! — from  a  woe, 

"  Sharper,  I  truft,   than  thou  wilt  ever  know, 

"  My  Senfe  recoils ! — my  Wife  ! — my  deareft  Wife  ! 

"  The  fweet  Companion  of  my  lengthen'd  Life  ! 

"  Thy  Mother  ! — for  whofe  peace,  and  health,  my  cares, 

**  My  fond  attention,   my  inceflant  pray'rs 

"  The  Day,  and  Night  beheld  !— Oh  !  muft  I  fee 

"  That  dear  One  pine  in  helplefs  Poverty  ? 

"  While  pale,   and  trembling,  finks  the  vital  flame, 

"  Muft  her  foft,  delicate,  and  feeble  Frame, 

H  *^To 


[      50      ] 

*'  To  Charity's  donation,   cold,   and  fcant, 

"  Owe  its  exemption  from  extremeft  want? 

"  Can  I   fee  this — unable  to  obtain 

"  Thofe  common  comforts  the  Laborious  gain, 

*'  Confcious,   my  own  infatuate  ralhnefs  fhed 

"  This  bitter  phial   on  her  gentle  head  ? 

"  My  Son  ! — my  Son  !" — Then,  on  my  fhoulder  thrown, 

Heart-fmote,  and  wan,  he  heav'd  the  bitter  groan. 

Oh  !   while  thefe  arms  their  honour'd  Burden  preft, 
As  his   funk  cheek  felt  cold  upon  my  breaft, 
What  words  can  paint  the  deep  diftrefs  I  bore, 
What  Horror  fm^ote  me,  and  what  Anguifh  tore  ? 

And  could  I  fee  the  Author  of  my  birth 
Thus  bend  in  woe  the  hoary  head  to  Earth  ; 
Round  his  weak  Frame  fuch  whelming  anguifli  rage. 
Nor  fnatch  from  the  dread  ftorm  his  failing  age, 
Becaufe  my  Hopes — my  Peace — perhaps  my  Life 
Were  doom'd  to  perifh  in  the  filial   ftrife  ? 
Impoflible  ! — the   fofter  PafTions  fly. 
Nor  dare  diffolve  great  Nature's  primal  tie.. 

"  Be 


[      51      ] 

"  Be  comforted,  my  Father  ! — could  thy  Son, 
Oh  !   could  he  live  to  fee  thee  thus  undone, 
Endure  the  knowledge,  that  when  Fortune  gave 
The  power  to  favT  thee,  he  refused  to  five  ? 
The  torturing  felf-reproach  muft  rend  his  brain, 
And  wake  to  phrenzy  the  remorfeful  pain. 
But  O  my  Love  ! — yet  pardon  me  ! — I   go 
Alone  to  ftem  conflidling  tides  oi  woe  ! 
I  go,   to   teach  my   Soul  her  arduous   tafk. 
And  gain  by  pray'r  the  fortitude  I  afk  !" 


So  faying,   to  his  couch  my  Sire  I  led, 
And  fmooth'd  the  pillow  for  his  languid  head. 
With  fofter  tears  his  trembling  eye-balls  llione, 
And  falt'ring  accents  ardent  bleft  his  Son. 

Then  up  the  Mountain's  fteep,  and  craggy  lidc, 
With   ftep   precipitate,   I   wildly  ftride  ; 
Now  ftung  with  tortures  of  the  laft  defpair ; 
Now  funk  in  grief ; — now  energiz'd  by   pray'r  ; 
Nor  yet  in  vain  th'  heart  rending  efforts  prove. 
Warm   Duty  rifes  over  bleeding   Love  ! 

H  2  The 


[     52      ] 
The  ftru^gle  paft  ! — my  peace  !— my  freedom  given  ! 
Thy   anchor   Hope,    on   fhorelefs   oceans  driv'n  ! 
What  then  to  juftice,   or  to  Love  remain'd, 
But  to  reflore  the  heart,  my  vows  had  gain'd  ? 
Wrench  from  Louisa's   breafk  its  cherifh'd  bane, 
And  nobly  the  laft  facrifice  fuflain  ? 
Renounce  her  pity,  and  infpire  her  hate, 
In  tenfold  gloom,  tho'  it  involve  my  fate  ? 
Teach  her  to  think  the  Villain-bafenefs  mine, 
That  bows  the  venal  Heart  at  Fortune's  fhrine  ? 
So  might  th'  indignant  {^nfe  of  barter'd  Truth 
Quench  the  difafl'rous  Paflion  of  her  Youth ; 
Now  doom'd  to  darken  every  Hope,  that  cheers, 
With  fliining  promifes,  the  rifing  years  ! 
Had  I  the  dread  neceflity  explained, 
That  with  refiftlefs  force  my  freedom  chain'd , 
Tore  the  fweet  bands,  by  virtuous  Paflion  tied, 
And  ftamp'd  our  Conftancy  with  Paricide ; 
Then  had  Louisa   fortified  my  Soul, 
And  urg'd  my  ling'ring  ftep  to  Duty's  goal  ; 
Had  giv'n  me  back,  with  Pity's  fofteft  brow, 
Of  Love  fo  ruinous,   the  ill-ilarr'd  vow  ; 

A  felf« 


[     53     ] 

A  felf-devoted  Exile  fled  my  arms, 

But  forrowing  fled  them,  and  reflgn'd  her  charms 

To   fruitlefs  Conftancy,  and   fond   Regret  ; 

Ordain'd   to   mourn — unable  to  forget ; 

That  pine  in  Solitude  the  live-long  Day, 

Feed  on  the  heart,  and  fteal  the  life  away. 

Louisa's  pity  had   my  fuff 'rings  found. 
Somewhat  it  fure  had  balm'd  th'  embofom'd  wound  ; 
But  flnce  e'en  her  dear  fympathy   was  weak, 
Of  Fate's  dread  fhaft  th'  envenom'd  point  to  break, 
I  fl:rove   to  avert  the  flow-confuming  pain. 
And  for  the  conflidi,  arm'd  her  with  difdain  ; 
That  cruel  conflid,  which  the  Paflions  prove, 
E'er  high-foul'd  Scorn  I'ubdues  a  rooted  Love. 

Still,  to  my  Being's  lateft  verge,  be  borne 
The  dear,   miftaken  Maid's  unceafing  fcorn  ; 
Oh !    be  they  borne  in  this   unhappy  breaft, 
To    the    cold    bed    of   its    eternal    reft  ! 


Near 


[5+3 

Near  feems  that  reft  my  wearied  Life  defires, 
Pain  breaks  her  fprings,  and  Sicknefs  dims  her  fires, 
And  Hope,   who  comes   in    fable  veft  array'd. 
Points,  with  pale  hand,   to  Death's  eternal  fhade  ! 

But  yet, — when  paft  the  expiatory  doom, 
When  Mifery's  fhafts  lie  broken  on  my  tomb, 
Th'  exploring  gaze,  fweet  Emma,   kindly  bend 
On  the  dear  bofom  of  thy  beauteous  Friend  ; 
If  thou  fhalt  mark,  that  cold  contempt  fuftains 
That  feat  of  foftnefs  from  affaulting  Pains  ; 
That  no  dim  tears  her  cheek's  warm  rofes  pale. 
No  fighs  of  anguifh  fwell  the  lonely   gale, 
Whofe  murmurs  o'er  the  grafs-green  fod  fhall  rife, 
Where,  cold,  and  peaceful,  loft  E  u  g  e  n  i  o  lies, 
Then,  that  thou  name  me  not^   my  Soul  implores. 
Nor  fnatch  the  peace  away  Difdain  reftores  ; 
The  cruel  change  thy  tendernefs  will  fear, 
Of  Pride's  ftern  frown,  for  Pity's  heart-wrung  tear. 
Oh  !    fhall  one  felfifh  wifli  her  peace  invade 
That  Love  fo  agoniz'd  may  footh  my  fhade  ? 

No, 


[      55      ] 

No,   Emma,  no! — my  Soul  for  her' s  fliall  wait, 
Till   foft  it  pafs   the  everlafting   Gate  ; 
From  thofe  dear  Eyes  till  Light  Divine  fhall  clear, 
The  film,  that  mortal  Chance  had  darkened  there  j 
Fond  Mem'ry's  deep  reproach  for  aye  remove, 
And  pleading  Seraphs  reunite  our  Love  ! 

But  Oh  !    lliould  Pity,  with  intrufive  fway, 
Range  her   fad   Images  in   dire    array, 
And  to  Louis  a's  mental  fight  difclofe 
The  bed  of  Death, — the  agonizing  throes  ; 
Oh  !    fiiould  £he  think  fhe  fees  in  ftruggles  rife 
That  breath,  which  wak'd  for  her  the  fondeft  fishs ! 
Thofe  Eyes,  whofe  foftnefs  fiiall  no  more  betray, 
Throw  their  laft  glances  on  the  final  day  ! — 
In  fuch  an  hour,  fhould  Scorn,   and  Anger  prove 
Weak  to  difpel  the  grief-awaken'd  Love  ; 
Sorrowing  for  him,  who  could  her  hopes  deceive, 
Should  (he,  in  bitternefs  of  Spirit,  grieve 
For  Guilt,   which,   unextenuated,    rears 
Barriers,  to  laft  beyond  this  Vale  of  tears ; 
Then,  Emma,    then,   the  fad   events  relate, 
That  wove  the  fable  texture  of  our   fate. 

My 


[      56      ] 
Mv  dear  Louisa! — pardon  him,  who  ftrove 
By  means  fo  feeming  harlli,  to  quench  thy  Love  ! 
Hard  was  the  tailc,  that  kindnefs  to  refign, 
Which  my  torn  bofom  could  demand  of  thine  ; 
Efteem,   that  might  have  borne  eternal  date, 
Since  plac'd,  by  Virtue,  paft  the  reach  of  Fate  ; 
That  blefs'd  compaflion,   my  fad  lot  had  won, 
A  Wretch  by  Fortune,  not  by  Crimes  undone  ; 
Tliefe  to  renounce ! — with  my  own  hand  to  throw 
In   her  dark  chalice  added  dregs  of  woe  ; 
To  pierce  my  Soul  with   voluntary  pains, 
A   Suicide  on  Comfort's  laft  remains, 
Was  hard !— but  gen'rous  Love  the  effort  made, 
Thy  quiet  afk'd  ; — I  trembled — and  obey'd  ! 

When  to  that  purer  World  our  Souls  are  borne, 
Where  ev'ry  veil  from  ev'ry   breaft  is  torn. 
My  willing  Spirit,   in  the  Realms  above. 
Shall  meet  the  fearching  Eye  of  wounded  Love; 
To  thee  Louisa   my  paft  woes  impart. 
And  hear  thy  Angel  Voice  ABSOLVE  MY  HEART. 


END  OF  THE  SECOND  EPISTLE. 


THIRD      EPISTLE. 


O       U       I        S       A 


T  O 


EMMA, 


WRITTEN  THE  DAY  AFTER  SHE  HAD  RECEIV'D    FROM   HER 
E  U  G  E  N  I  O  '  s    EXCULPATING  LETTER. 


April  21ft,  178.1. 

01  Thou  foft  Hope,  that  once  fo  fweetly  fhed 
Thy  gayeft  luftres  on  my  favor'd  head, 
What,   tho'  no  more  the  lively  joy  remains, 
That  trac'd  thy  light  ftep  o'er  thefe  earthly  plains. 
Yet,   piercing  now  Defpair's  incumbent  fliroud. 
Soft  Hope,  thou  lookeft  from  yon   parting  cloud  ; 
And  my  lov'd  Emma's  hand  the  vifion  fhews, 
That  fmiles  my  ftruggling  Spirit  to  repofe  ! 

I  Bright 


■C    58    ]     ■ 

Bright  in  Eugenio's  vindicated  truth, 
That  viiion  lights  anew  my  drooping  youth  ; 
For,  in  perfpedive  beauteous,   it  difplays 
A  long  Eternity  of  blifsful  Days ; 
Of  all  thofe  facred  joys  our  Souls  fhall  prove 
**  When  pleading  Seraphs  reunite  our   Love." 

'Tis  true,   E  u  g  e  n i  o,  thro*  Life's  thorny  way. 
In  far  divided  paths  our  fteps  fhall   ftray ; 
It  is  not  given  us,   when  rude  blafts  aflail. 
And  pale  Misfortune  breathes  the  bitter  gale. 
It  is  not  given,   to  temper,   and  afiuage. 
Each  for  the  other's  breaft,   its  cruel  rage  ; 
Nor  mutually  to  feel  the  cheering  rays. 
When  Health,   and  Joy  infpirit  Summer-days. 
Our  little  Barks,   their  flatt'ring  Port  in  view. 
Fate,  on  Life's  billowy  furge,  afunder   threw  j 
Friend  of  ray  Soul !  we  are  not  doom'd  to  gain 
The  funny  Ifle  of  that  tempeftuous  Main  ; 
But  O  !  thy  Virtue,  long  imagin'd  loft. 
Has  felt  the  wreck  of  no   infiduous  coaft ! 


The 


[     59     ] 

The  deep  and  troubled  floods,  it  knew  to  brave ! 
It  rifes  buoyant  on  the  ftormy  wave ! 
Vain  are  thofe  Storms,   by  which  its  courfe  is  driv'n, 
Since  fure,  tho'  diftant,  is  the  port  of  Heav'n. 

My  dear  Eugenio,  the  dread  Voice  will  prove 
Indulgent  to  the  frail  excefs  of  Love, 
Which  to  fuch  fad  extremes  would  blindly  run, 
Lavifli  of  health,  and  fick'ning  at  the  Sun  ; 
Since,  while  an  unaccufing  Confcience  threw 
Th'  eternal   portals  open  to  my  view. 
My  Spirit   funk,   a  prey  to  fond  Defpair, 
And  coldly  view'd  that  Heav'n  thou  could'ft  not  fhare ; 
Soil'd  with  its  griefs  thofe  amaranthine  flow'rs, 
Inwove  by  Faith  in  bright  Religion's  bow'rs. 
Angel  of  Mercy  !  thou  wilt  gently  breathe 
Exhaling  fighs  upon   that  fullied  wreath  ; 
And  the  dim  ftains  of  my  impatient  tears, 
Impaffion'd   yearnings,   and  defponding  fears, 
Shall  vanifh,  as  chill  dews  that  Morning  throws, 
By  Summer  Winds  are  wafted  from  the  Rofe ! 

I  2  O! 


[     60     ] 
O  !  how  o'er-joy'd  my  dazzled  fight  furvey'd 
Thefe  words,  in  Emma's  characters   pourtray'd, 
"  He  is  not  guilty"  ! — rapid  from  my  tongue 
They,  in  exulting  iteration,  fprung. 
"  Read,  dear  Louisa,  and  acquit  the  Heart, 
"  That- bears  in  all  thy  griefs  fo  large  a  Part." 

Think'ft  thou,   my  Emma,  thy  benign  command 
Met  an  unwilling  eye,  a  tardy  hand  ? 
Heav'n !  with  what  force  thefe  hands,  thefe  eyes,  impell'd, 
Seize  the  known  characters,  fo  long  with-held ! 
While  ev'ry  letter,   e'er  examin'd,   wears 
Th'  uninjur'd  magic  of  the  vanifh'd  years ! 
Diforder'd  founds  my  lips  pronounce,   nor  fpare 
The  ufelefs  queftion  to  th'   unconfcious  air. 
"  Does  that  dear  hand  yet  trace  Louisa's  name? 
"  Will  it  his  Love,   his  Innocence  proclaim? 
"  How  may  this  be? — yet  Emma   fays  'tis  fo." 
Then  did  I  read,  and  weep,  and  throb,  and  glow, 
Approve,  abfolve,  admire,  and  fmile,  and  figh, 
Till  penfive  Peace  fhone  mildly  in  my  eye ; 

Back 


[     6.      ] 

Back  with  that  loft  efteem,  my  heart  deplor'd, 
The  Wand'rer  came,  with  half  her  rights  reftor'd. 

So  lucklefs  C  L  A I R  M  o  N  t's  thorny  path  fhe  fmooths ; 
So  his  fharp  fenfe  of  many  an  ill  flie  fooths ; 
One  dear  recover'd  Hope  his  grief  beguiles, 
And,   'midft  the  wreck  of  all  the  reft,  he  fmiles. 
Emma,  thou  knew'ft  him  well; — the  jocund  youth, 
Ambition's  Votary,   yet  of  taintlefs  truth. 
Lur'd  by  the  wealth  the  glowing  Andes  hide> 
He  long'd  to  pafs  the  interpoftng  tide. 
Remembrance  fees  him  on  the  Sea-beach  ftand, 
His   fair  Clarissa  weeping  on  his  hand. 
With  anxious  fmiles  her  varying  cheek  he  dries. 
And  talks  of  profp'rous  Winds,   and  fav'ring  Skies. 
Clear  was  the  Sky,   and  gentle  were  the  Gales, 
And  wide  and  waving  ftream'd  the  fnowy  Sails ; 
While,   tOiTmg  the  green  fea-weed  o'er,   and  o'er. 
Crept  the  hufh'd   billow  on  the  fbelly  ftiore  ; 
Soft  as  th'  autumnal  breeze  among  the  fheaves, 
Or  gently  ruftling  in  the  fallen  leaves ; 

And 


[     6a     ] 

And  rolling  in  blue  Light  the  wat'ry  Way 
With  frofted  filver  feem'd  bedropt,   and  gay. 

Impatient  Clairmont  led  his  penfive  Bride, 
As  flow  fhe  fcal'd  the  Veffel's  ftately  Tide. 
So  fmooth  the  Seas,   the  tall  Bark  feem'd  to  lleep, 
While  her  gay  Pennants  ting'd  the  glafly  Deep. 
Day  after  Day  mild   Breezes  frefhen'd  round, 
Till  Skies  alone   the  mighty  Waters  bound. 

But  now,  far  diftant  from  Britannia's  ihore, 
Round  craggy  Steeps  where  angry  billows  roar,  '' 

Rife  the  dark  Winds  I — and  borne  on  flagging  wing, 
On  the  bent  maft  the  fcreaming  Fulmars  cling  ! 
And  foon  the  fury  of  the  wildeft  Storm 
That  could  the  vext  and  fwelling  Sea  deform. 
With  Death's  fhrill  voice,  fhrieks  in  the  rending  fhrouds, 
As  whirls   the  dizzy  Veffel  to  the  clouds  ; 
Or  prone  flioots  fwiftly  to  the  billowy  vale, 
While  the  wet  Seaman's  alt'ring  cheek  is  pale. 


Th( 


[     63      ] 

The  whirling  Ship  the  guiding  Rudder  mocks, 
It  ftrikes  !-^-it  burfts  upon  the  bulging  Rocks  ! 
Unhappy  Clairmont,   who  had  vainly  tried 
In  the  tofs'd  Boat  to  place  his  beauteous  Bride, 
Sees,  on  the  Deck,   pale,   trembling,   as  {he  flood. 
The  fudden  Billow  daih  her  to  the  Flood  ; 
While   on   the  riven  plank  himfelf  convey'd. 
With  only  Life,   beneath  a  ftranger  Shade, 
Wakes  from  the  briny  trance,   and  wakes  to  know. 
Of  Fate's  dark  ftores,  the  moft  accomplifli'd  Woe  ! 
Borne  by  a  friendly  Sail,   that  now  he  ftands 
A  ruin'd  Wand'rer  on   his   native  Lands, 
Seems   little  ; — Love's   feverer  tortures  reign 
With    force   defpotic,   and    exclufive  pain. 

This  borne,   from  month  to  month,  and  year  to  year, 
At  length,   unlook'd  for  tidings  charm  his   ear ; 
His  fair    Clarissa  lives  ! — on  coafts  unknown 
Wreck'd,   like  himfelf,   unfriended  and  alone, 
By  deftiny  fevere,  an  haplcfs   Slave, 
Pines  on  rude  ihores  beyond  th'  Atlantic  wave ; 

Yet 


[     64     ] 

Yet,  that  fhe  lives  is  fo  unhoped  a  joy  !— - 
Before  it  Doubt,  and  Fear,  and  Anguifh  fly ! 
She  lives ! — and  Fate  may  aid  the  ardent  ftrife, 
And  to   his  arms  reftore  his  long-loft  Wife  ! 
In  that  dear  hope  pale  Mis'ry's  tortures  ceafe, 
And  agony  fublides  almoft  to  peace. 

So  I — but  to  EuGENlo  fwift  impart 
How  full  the  pardon  of  Louisa's   heart! 
O  !   let  him  not  repent  he  wrung  her  Mind 
With  fruitlefs  woes,   fo  generoufly  delign'd  ; 
Since,   tho'  they  fail'd  her  freedom  to  reftore, 
Had  fhe  not  long  been  deftin'd  to  deplore 
His  Mind,   as  cruel,   venal,   falfe,   and  vain — 
O  but  for  that ! — that  Soul-diftrading  pain, 
Whofe  unexpeded  flight  makes  other  grief 
Sink  in  the  foftnefs  of  that  bleft  relief, 
Her  Spirit  ne'er,   as  now,   had  rifen  above 
The  poignant  woes  of  difappointed  Love  ; 
Of  that  difunion  here,   ftern  Fate  commands. 
Who  throws  her  edids  with  fuch  ruthlefs  hands  J 


But 


[     63      ] 

But  greater  Ills',  remov'd,  'the  kfs  remain 

Shorn  of  their  pomted  fliiigs,  and  loft  their  banc.   • 

Say,   in  Louis  a's   breaft  no  longer  glow 

The  inward  fires  of  Life-confuming  Woe  ; 

Diftant  alike   from   Pain's  incumbent  gloom, 

And  fprightly  Pleafure's  gaily-kindling  bloom^  .  ' 

The  vital  Pow'rs  effufe  a  fofter  flame, 

And  with  ferener  beams  pervade  her  Frame. 

O   bid  him  live  .'—-live,  to  fulfil  each  part 

That  makes  fuch  awful  claims  upon  his  heart ; 

And  as  an  Hufband,  as  a  Fafclijer,   prove 

Virtuous,  and  great,  as  in  his  filial  love  ! 

I  too  fhall  live  ! — Health's  warmer  currents  break, 
Yet  unconfirm'd,   upon  my.  faded  cheek. 
Laft  Night  their  honied  dews  prolong'd  my  reft, 
As  foft  they  fprung  within  my  cheiiili'd  breaft. 
O  Night !    the  firft  exempt  from  wildeft  throes 
Of  fevcr'd  Pain,  that  chas'd  the  fliort  repofe, 
Since  my   Eugenio's  feeming  coldnefs  ftrove, 
Alas  !   how  much  in  vain  !    to  quench  my  Love. 

K  Yes 


[     66     ] 

Yes,   I  fhall  live  to  expiate  by*  a    Mind 
Bow'd  to  its  fate,    and  cheerfully  reiign'di  if' • 
The  dangerous  rafhnefs,  which  my  peace  had  thrown 
On  human  chance,   and  errors  not  my  own. 

Here,  to  my   fav'rite  bow'r,   at  rifing  Day^ 
With  tranquil  ftep,   I  bent  my  purpos'd  way ; 
For  here  I  firft  beheld  the  graceful  Youth, 
And  here  he  promis'd  everlafting  truth  j 
And  here  to  thee,  my  Friend,  1  ufed  to  grieve, 
When  Life  could  charm  no  more,  nor  Hope  deceive  ; 
And  here,   my  long  affli6led  Spirit,   freed 
From  that  barb'd  fhaft,  on  which  it  wont  to  bleed, 
Now    bids    its   foften'd  feelings   gently   flow, 
To  her,   who  draws  the  deadly  fting  of  Woe. 

>^Once  more  thefe  eyes,  with  fmiles  of  pleafure  hail 
The  vernal   beauties  of  my  native  Vale  ; 
The  plenteous  dews,  that  in  the  early  ray 
Gem  the  light  leaf,  and  tremble  on  the  fpray  ; 
The  frefli  cool  gales,   that  undulating  pafs, 
With  fhadowy  fweep,  along  the  bending  grafs. — 

Now 


[      67      ] 

No\V  thVow  the  fhnibs  and  trees  the  leno;thcn'd  fhiide 
On  the  fmooth  turf  diftincl ! — and  now  they  fade, 
As  iinks  the  Sun,   behind  a  cloud  withdrawn, 
That  late  unveil'd   fhone  yellow  on  the  lawn. 
Soft  o'er  the  Vale,    from  this  my  fav'rite  feat, 
Serene  I  mark  the  vagrant  beauties  fleet  ; 
In  different  lights  the  changing  features  trace, 
Catch  the  bright  form,  and  paint  the  fhadowy  grace. 
Where  the ■  light -Afli,  and  browner  Oak  extend. 
And  high  in  Aii:  theit'  mingled  branches  bend,  O 

The  moffy  bank,  beneath  their  trembling  bow'rs, 
Arifes,    fragrant   with  uncultur'd   flow'rs, 
That  ftoop  the  fweet  head  o'er  the  latent  fpring. 
And  bear  the  pendant  Bees,  that  humming  cling. 
Juft  gleams  the  Fount — for,  curving  o'er  its  brink. 
The  lengthen'd   grafs  the  fhining  Waters  drink  ; 
Their  green  arms  half  its  glaffy   beauties   hide. 
As   from  beneath  them   fteals  the  wand'ring  tide. 
And  down  the  Valley  carclefs  winds   away. 
While  in  its  ftreams  the  glancing  Sun-beams  play. 

K  2  But 


i     68     ] 

But  where  the  Greenwood-hill  with  arching  fliade, 
Opes  the   light  Villa  up  the  winding  Glade, 
I    ft:e    a    venerable    Form    dcfcend  ; 
His  {low  fleps  falter  as  they  hither  bend. 
Soft  lifts  the  breeze  the  locks  of  filver  grey, 
And  gentleft  meanings  his  mild  looks  convey! 
Stranger,  whoe'er  thou  art,  thy  faded  face 
And  bending  Form  have  many  a  touching  grace. 

He  flops ! 1  haften  to  explore  the  caufe 

Of  that  fix'd  gaze  ! — of  that  impaiTion'd  paufe  ! 


END  OF  THE  THIRD  EPISTLE. 


NOTE, 


[  (")  ] 


NOTE,  ]JJpoN  reading  this  third  Epiftle  to  a  Friend, 
he  obferved,  that  perhaps  a  comparifon  of  Louisa's  own  fitua- 
tion  with  the  harder  fate  of  her  Lover,  and  her  tender  pity  for  the 
inevitable  miferies  of  fuch  a  union,  might  have  been  acceptable 
in  the  place  of  the  epifode  of  Clairmont,  and  the  defcription 
of  the  bower;  but  it  fliould  be  confidered,  that  Louisa  wrote 
under  the  immediate  impreflion  of  her  extacy  to  find  Eugenio 
guiltlefs  j  that  her  Mind  was  not  fober'd  enough  for  reflection. 
To  have  inveftigated  the  unhappy  lot  of  her  Lover  mufl  have  been 
a  melancholy  employment.  Eafed  of  an  oppreflive  weight  of 
mifery  her  exhilarated  fpirits  admit  not,  fo  early,  any  painful  ideas. 
She  does  not  difcriminate,  (he  felicitates  her  dcftiny.  Her  fym- 
pathy  in  the  fate  of  her  Friends  grow  more  lively — flie  recolledls 
the  fituation  of  Clairmont — Joy  is  naturally  loquacious,  and 
fhe  is  gratified  in  relating  his  flory  to  her  Emma.  She  awakens 
with  new  vivacity  to  the  impreflions  of  pleafure,  which  her  Mind 
was  accuftomed  to  receive  from  fccnic  objcdls.  The  propenfity  to 
dwell  on  them  prevailed  even  in  the  hours  of  her  unhappinefs.  It 
is  an  habit   which    compares    and  afllmilates    the  fmiling,    or  thf 

gloomy 


[     7°     ] 

gloomy  views  of  Nature  to  the  internal  feelings,  and  is  common 
to  people  of  a  lively  imagination.  In  the  exultation  of  her 
Heart  to  find  her  Lover  yet  eftimable,  Louisa  fpeeds  to  the 
bow'r.  To  imprefs'd  w^ith  his  image.  Its  beauties  ftrike  her  more 
forcibly  than  ever,  and  in  this  frame  of  Mind  fhe  naturally  feels 
delight  In  painting  them. 


FOURTH 


FOURTH      EPISTLE. 


O       U       I        S       A 


T  O 


EMMA, 


April  25th,  1781. 

/^4  H  !    my  lov'd  Emma,   I  have  much  to  tell, 
^^^      Since  laft  I  fcnt  thee  an  abrupt  farewell  ; 
But  be  the  chain  of  thofe  events  regained, 
That  led  my  fteps,  where  awful  Horrors  reign'd, 
And  thro'  their  gloom,   the  light  of  Joy  reveal'd. 
By  Fate's  eclipfing  hand  fo   long  conceal'd. 

Rifing  impatient   from  the  molfy  feat, 
With  afking  eyes,   the  ftrangcr  Gucft  I  meet  j 

He 


[      72      ] 
He  claf|^:)5'  my  harvd  h — Oh  !   in  that  lopk'^  ber^^gn, 
What  rays  of  love,   and  angel-pity  fhine  ! 
Swett  cordial  confidence  my  bofom  cheers, 
Y^t  thrilling  flart  th^  foft  fpontaneous  tears.  '; 

*  What  chance,  or  gen'rous  Impulfe,  may  I  blefs, 

*  Thrice  gentle  Stranger,   for  this  kind  addrefs  ; 

*  That   thy^'vthou  vifiteft   this   lonely  Grove, 

*  And  gazeft  on  me  with  paternal  love  ?  ' 

"  Ah!    fweet  Louisa,"   the  mild  Form  replies. 
His  words  flow  mingling  with  the  rifing  fighs, 
"  Behold  in  me,  the  fource  of  all  the  woes, 
"  That  paled  on  thy  fair  cheek  the  early  rofe  ! 
"  But  thou  art  gen'rous,  and  wilt  kindly  fhed 
"  Forgivenefs  on  Ernesto's   aged  head; 
"  Yes,   thou  wilt  much  allow  to  fad  extremes, 
"  For  round  thee,  as  a  Light,  Compaflion  beams!  " 

With  pleas'd  furprize  my  beating  heart  expands ; 
My  fwifter  tears  fall  copious  on  his  hands  ; 

My 


[      73      ] 

My  trembling  knee  involuntary  bends, 

For  deepeft  reverence  with  my  tranfport  blends. 

*  O  Heav'n  !    art  thou  that  Being,  fo  rever'd, 

*  In  happier  days  to  my  charm'd  Soul  endear'd  ? 

*  Which  oft,   unconfcious  of  thy  Form,   furvey'd 

*  Thy  worth,   by  filial  tenderncfs   difplay'd. 

'  All,  all  is  known  ! — no  felfifh  murmurs  rife, 

*  Nor  groans  arraign  the  mandate  of  the  {kies  ; 

*  Nobly   E  u  G  E  N  I  o    their  high  call  obey'd  ! — 

'  Oh  !   what  a  Wretch  were  I,   fhould  I  upbraid, 

*  Becaufe  th'  exalted  Youth,  whofe  heart  I  won, 

*  Deferves   the  bleffing,  to  be  born  thy  Son  ! 

'  Some  vagrant  drops  may  fall,   fome  rebel  fighs, 

*  Perchance,   to  our  divided   Loves  arife  ; 

t 

*  But  vani^h'd  now  is  Mifery's  ruthlefs  fmart, 

*  Tho'   fad,    not  wretched,   my  devoted   Heart ; 

*  And   oh!   fince   poor   Louisa   thus  obtains 

*  Thy  gen'rous  love,   thy  foothing  pity  gains, 

*  On  them  each  fond  regret  fhall  fink  to  reft, 

'  Nor  Mcm'ry  whifper,   how  fhe  once  was  blcft.' 

L  ''  Honor'd 


[      74      ] 
"  Honor'd  Louisa!   fair  angelic  Maid, 
*'  With  ev'ry  blefling  be   thy  worth  repaid  !  i 

"  But  Time   flies   rapidly! — the  leaft  delay 
"111  fuits  th'    important   meflage  I   convey ; 
"  An  haplefs   Penitent  adjures  thee  fly, 
*'  To  pardon,   and  receive  her  dying  flgh  -, 
"  O  come  with  me,   Louisa  !-— at  thy  gates, 
"  Lo  !  in  the  Glen,   th'  expeding  chariot  waits !" 

Silent — aflionifli'd — trembling — faint — and  pale. 
My  hurried   fl:ep   he  haften'd  to  the   Vale ; 
And  foon,   as  feated   by   his  lide  I   rode. 
Thus,   from  his  lip,   Emira's   flory  flow'd. 

*  When  to  the  Altar  my  unhappy   Son 
'  Led  the  gay  Bride,   whom  all  unfought  he  won, 
'  Penflve  his  eye,   and  ferious  was  his  air ; 
'  Tho',   with   attentive,   and  rcfpedtful  care, 

*  He  flrove  to  hide  the  forrows  of  his  Soul, 

*  But  could  not  oft  their  burfling  flgh  controul, 

*  Bright,  and  adorn'd,   as  came  the  high-born  Maid, 

*  In  ev'ry   lavifh  elegance    array'd. 

*  Yet 


[      75      ] 

*  Yet  oft    I   faw,   that  inaufpicious  Morn, 

*  From  fmother'd  conrcioiifnefs,   the  tranfient  fcorn 

*  Caft  lurid  llame  at   times,   amid  the  joy 

*  That  glow'd  voluptuous  in  her  ardent  eye, 

*  When  ihe  perceiv'd,   no  ray  of;  fond  dc-{ire 

*  Met  her  warm  glance,   or  authoris'd  its  fire  ; 

*  Saw  deep-felt  anguifli  in  her  Bridegroom  prove 
'  The  pow'r  fupreme  of  violated  Love  ; 

'  And  oft  his  notice,   courteous,   yet  conftrain'd, 

*  Eager  llie  fought ;   receiving  it,  difdain'd  ; 

*  And  ftiii  each  day  increas'd' the  v^ain  chagrin, 

*  And  wak'd  new  fallies  of  malicious  fpleen  ; 
'  The  pcnfive  homage  of  a  wounded  Alind, 

*  Tho'  grateful,   fad,   and,  without  ardor,   kind, 

*  Seem'd  to  reproach  thofe  eyes,   as  pow'rlefs  grown, 

*  Whofe  glance,  fliedeem'd,  might  make  theWorld  her  own. 

'  Unjuft   Emir  A  !   that  could'ft  hope  to  gain 
'  Love's  glowing  homage  from  an  Heart  in  pain  ; 
'  Thou  fhould'ft  have  footh'd  th'  involuntary  fmart, 
'  And  with  his  friendship  fatished  thy  lieart  j 

L  2  *  Thus 


[      76      ] 

'  Thus  fweetj  and  gentle,   thou  had'ft  quickly  won 

*  That  grateful  tribute   from  my  gen'rous  Son  ; 

*  But  well  he  knew,   thy  vain  ill-govern'd  Mind, 

*  Nor  foft  compafTion  knew,   nor  love  refined  ; 
'  So   unregretful  faw  thy  wafted  hours 

*  Refign'd  to   Diflipation's  reftlefs  pow'rs ; 

*  Yet  wifh'd  thofe  pow  js  a  kind  relief  might  prove 
<  To  the  pain'd  {(^n(G  of  difappointed   Love ; 

*  And  fometimes  hoped,  the  ftrong  maternal  claims 

*  Might  lead  her  light  defires  to  fofter  aims, 

*  When  a  fweet  Cherub-Daughter  bleft  her  arms, 

*  Whofe  features  promis'd  all  her  Mother's  charms  ; 
'  But  no  maternal  tendernefs  Ihe  fhares, 

'  The  gay  Emira  fcorns  its  gentle  cares. 

'  And  when  to  Pleafures,  frivolous  and  vain, 
'  He  faw  fucceed,   a  mad  licentious  train  ; 

*  Play,   ruinoufly  high,  and  dark   Intrigue 

*  Prompt  the  wild  wifh,  and  form  the  baneful  league, 
'  How  oft    has  he  adjur'd  her  to  refled:, 

*  What  pricelefs  peace  her  wild  purfuits  negled ! 

<  On 


[     77     ] 
'  Oil  me  propitious  Heav'n  the  povv'r  beftow'd 

*  To  cancel   the  vaft  debt  my  fortunes  ow'd 
'  To    proud   Emir  a — for  my   lucky  Sails 

*  Return'd,  rich  freighted,   from  Hifpania's  vales  ; 
<  Thofe  Sails,  whofe  venture  rafh,  and  long  delay, 

*  With  all  a  Bankrupt's  mis'ry  crofs'd  my  way. 

*  Now  many  a  fmiling  Chance  combined  to  raife, 

*  Above  the  level   of  my  faireft  days, 

*  That  Wealth,   whofe  dreadful  and  impending  fall 

*  In  one  wide  ruin  had  involv'd   us  all, 

*  But  that  Em  IRA,  in   that  fateful  hour, 

*  Snatch'd  my  devoted  credit  from  its  pow'r ; 

*  And  duteous  noble  dear  Eugenio    flood, 

*  A  youthful  Victim   to  his  Father's  good. 

*  Yet  when  I  faw,   that  mean  unfeeling  Pride 

'  Rul'd  the  vain  bofom  of  the  worthlefs  Bride, 

*  My  Soul  rejoic'd,   with   intereft  to  repay 

*  The  heavy  debt  of  that  difaft'rous  day  ; 

*  For  what    idea  can   more  painful  rife, 

*  Than  much  to  owe,  where  owing  we  defpife  ? 


'  One 


[      78      ] 

'  One  fcene,  alas !  my  heart  can  ne'er  forget, 
'  Nor  Mem'ry  paint  it  without   keen   regret 
'  That  in  the  female  breaft,   fo  form'd  to  prove, 

*  The   fvveet  refinements  of  maternal  Love, 

*  DifJain,  and  guilty  Pleafure,   fhould  controul, 
'  And  to  its  yearnings  indurate  the  Soul. 

'  Confummate  from  her  toilette's  anxious  tafk, 

*  Em  IRA,   hafl'ning  to  the  midnight  Mafk, 

'  Th'  Apartment  enter'd,   where  Eugenio  flood,         • 
'  And  near  me  lean'd,   in  deeply  muling  mood. 

*  My  folding  arms  their  rofy  Infant   preft 

'  To  the  fond  throbbings  of  a  Grandfire's  breaft, 
'  She,   with  the   tones  of  petulant   reproach, 

*  And  neck  averted,   call'd  her  tardy  coach. 

'  I  mark'd  Eugenio's  difapproving  iigh, 

*  As  the  licentious   veftment  caught   his  eye ; 
'  The  lofty  turban,   from  whofe  lurface  rais'd, 

*  Glitter'd  the  iilver  plume,   the  diamond  blaz'd  ; 

*  The  fnowy  veil,   in   foft  diforder  thrown, 

*  The  bofom,  riling  from  the  loofen'd  zone, 

*  And 


[      79     ] 

*  And  limbs,   by   golden   mullin    ill   conceard, 

*  Whofe  clinging  folds  their  perfeft  form   reveal'd. 

-    '  With  heart-felt  pain  the  injur'd  Hiifband   faw 

*  The  Fair  thus  fcorn  Decorum's  guardian  law  ; 

*  Saw  all  that  decent  drefs,   that  modeft  pride, 

*  "  Which  doubles  ev'ry  charm  it  feeks  to  hide," 

*  Once  the  bright  Dame  of  Britain's  lovelieft  boaft, 

*  In    the  Serao-lio's   wanton  Inmate   loft ! 

*  Seizing  her   ftruggling  hand,   Eugenio   tries 

*  To  warn  the  fair  Devoted,    e'er  fhe   flies, 
'  Where  Infamy  in  fdent  ambufh  ftrays 

*  Amidft  the  antic  Throng,   the  midnight  blaze. 

"  Oh  !   is  it  thus,   he  faid,   a  wedded  Dame 
"  Lights  the   loofe  Profligate's  difgraceful  flame? 
''  If  'gainft  an   Hufband's  claim  thy  heart  is  fear'd, 
"  By  Hcav'n  eftablifli'd,   and   by  Man   rever'd, 
*'  To  that,   if  thy   high  Spirit   fcorns  to  bend, 
"  Yet,   O  Emir  a!   hear  me  as  thy  Friend! 

"  Snatch 


[      80      ] 

"  Snatch  thy  bright  youth,   and  all  its  countlefs  charms, 

"  From  a  dread  ambufli  of  o'er-whelming  harms, 

"  Whofe  Demon-tribe,  fome  evils  fliall  impart, 

"  To  reach  and  wring  the  moft  obdurate  heart  ! 

"  How  will   that  haughty,   that  afpiring  Mind, 

*'  Which  claims  th'  inceffant  homage  of  Mankind; 

*'  Sees  to   thofe  Graces,   flatt'ring  Crouds  avow, 

"  Proud   Rank  unbend,   and  rival  Beauty  bow ; 

"  How  will  it  bear  to  change  this  foft  refpeft, 

"  For  ftudied  infolence,   and  rude  negled:  ? 

"  The  nod  familiar  of  the  Coxcomb  Throng? 

"  Thy  name  the  theme  of  their  lafcivious  fong ; 

*'  And  from  the  high-bred  Dames,   that  now  excite, 

*'  And  fhare  the  revels  of  thy  dangerous  night, 

"  Who,   when  DeteAion's   livid   fpots  arife, 

"  Will  ftudious  fhun,   affeding  to  defpife, 

"  Canft  thou  th'  unbending  knee's  cold  infult  bear, 

**  Their  fmile  of  malice,   and  their  vacant  fhare  ? 

''  Shafts,   which  wrong'd   Virtue  only  can   fuftain, 

*^  And  rife  fuperior  to  th'  unjuft  difdain." 

'  Thus, 


[    s>     ] 

*  Thus  while  he  pour'd,  to  check  this  rafli  career, 

*  The  ftartling  queflions  on  her  wounded  ear, 

*  Frowning  fhe  ftrove   to'difengage  her  hand, 

*  And  fly  the  juft  reproach,   the  firm  demand  ; 

*  While  Allien  brows,   and   flafhes  of  difdain, 

*  Too  plainly  prov'd  the  awful  challenge  vain. 

*  Then  ftriving,   from  a  fofter  caufe,   to  impart 

*  The  virtuous  wifh   to  her  mifguided  heart, 

*  A  Father's   fondnefs  melting  in  his  look, 

*  From  my  embrace  the  fmiling  Babe  he  took  ; 

*  Exclaiming,   as   in  all  its  touching  charms 

*  He  gave  it  to  her  half-unwillino;  arms,' 

'*  Alas !   Em  IRA,   fhall  this   Infant  live 
"  To  feel  the  grief  that  confcioufnefs  muft  give, 
"  When  a  difhonour'd  Mother's  deep  difgrace 
"  Pours  the  pain'd  crimfon  o'er  the  youthful  face? 
"  Or,   loft  to  Virtue,   thy  example  plead 
"  For  the  light  manners,  the  licentious  deed  ? 
"  Forbid  it  Heav'n  ! — O  fmile  my  Child,  and  lure, 
"  Tn  the  maternal   tranfports,   foft,   and   pure, 

M  *«  That 


[      82      ] 

"  That  lovely  bofom ! — let  thy  opening  bloom 
"  Charm  my  Emir  a,  e'er  flie  yet  confume, 
*'  In  guilty  Pleafure's  falfe  and  baneful  flames, 
"  A  Wife's  fair  faith — a  Mother's  tender  claims ! 
"  Oh  !  may  fhe  bid  thee  live  to  breathe  her  name 
"  Without  the  paufe  of  fear,  the  blufh  of  fliame  !" 

*  She  figh'd,  and  clafp'd  the  Infant  to  her  breaft, 

*  And  milder  looks  the  yielding  Heart  confefs'd  j 
'  Then,  as  th'  innocent  eyes  to  her's  the  while 

*  Are  gently  rais'd  v^^ith  an  unconfcious  fmile, 

*  Two  cryftal  drops,  that  Nature's  influence  fpeak, 

*  Steal  from  her  lids,   and  wander  down  her  cheek ; 

'  Thofe  ftranger  tears,   by  that  fweet  thrill  beguil'd, 
'  Fall  on  the  forehead  of  her  beauteous   Child. 

*  Pleas'd  the  maternal  tribute   to  furvey, 

*  Eugenic  kifs'd  the  lucid  drops  away. 

'  Earneft  on  him  the  Fair-One's  moiften'd  eyes 

*  Turn ! — and  fome  rays  benign  of  foft  furprife 

'  Meet  his  kind  gaze — but  ah  !    the  tranlient  dawn 

*  Of  virtuous  feeling,    inftant  is  withdrawn  ; 

*  And 


[     83     ] 

*  And  thofe  mild  beams,  that  Beauty  befl:  adorn, 

*  Sink  in  the  clouds   of  recoUedled  Scorn. 

*  Her  arms  extending,   with  imperious  air, 

*  The  fmiling  Babe  again  to  my   fond  care 

*  Coldly  fhe  gives  ;■— and  giving  it    exclaims,' 
— "  Go  little  Wretch  ! — of  tender  mutual  flames 

*'  Thou  wert  not  born ! — then  why  fhould  I  embrace, 
*'  And  live  for  thee,  whofe  birth  is  my  difgrace  ?  " 

*  Now  to  her  Hufband,  with  contemptuous  fmiles, 
'  She  bends — and  thus  his  guardian-care  reviles.' 

— "  Louisa's   Lover  has  a  right  to  claim 

*'  The  ftern  protedion  of  Emira's  fame! 

"  V/hofc  wealth,  whofe  rank,  whofe  youth,  and  far-famed 

"  So  madly  given  to  thy  infenfate  arms,  [charms, 

**  Are  weak  to  chace  the  defpicable  pains, 

"  That  load  thy  heart,  and  ice  thy  torpid  veins; 

'*  E'en  now  my  Soul  that  mean  regret  efpies 

"  Pale  on  thy  cheek,  and  languid  in  thine  eyes  I 

M  2  "  For 


[      84      ] 

"  For  me,  thy  needlefs  apprehenfion  fpare  ! 
**  My  peace,  my  fame,  abjure  Eugenio's  care! 
'♦  And  in  my  bofom  female  Pride  fhall  prove 
<*  An  happier  guard,  than  my  weak,  wafted  love ! 
**  Farewell  Infenlible !— enjoy  thy  grief! 
*'  Seek,  in  inglorious  {hades,  and  fighs,  relief 
"  For  the  hard  doom  relentlefs   Fate  ordain'd, 
^^  i:\iy  fplendid  fortunes   to  EM  IRA's  chain'd  1 — 
**  She  goes  to  join,   too  great  of  Soul  to  mourn, 
"  The  Circles  fhe  was  deftin'd  to  adorn, 
**  Till,  feizing  on  her  heart  with  demon-hold, 
"^^  PafTion  infane  that  Deftiny  qontrourd!" 

*  And  thus  the  Fair,  that  one  fhort  minute  faw 
'  Obey  the  facred  force  of  Nature's  law  ; 

*  Now  to  its  dilates  more  obdurate  grown, 

*  To  Danger's  paths   with  double  zeft  is  flown. 

*  Then  to  the  famenefs  of  the  Opera  Throng, 

*  Where  vocal  tricks  fuftain  th'  infipid  fong  j 

*  Where,  round  the  Dancer,  echoing  plaudits  found, 

*  At  each  indecent  and  diftorted  bound, 

<  Each 


[      85      ] 

*  Each  odious  geflure  that  ufurps  the  place 

*  Of    eafy    Elegance    and    genuine   Grace ; 

*  To  the  pain'd  hope,  the  fecret  dread   prcfage, 

*  Th'  ignoble  triumph,  and  the  fmother'd  rage 

*  Of  fatal  Play  ; — the   Ball's  fatiguing  tafk, 

'  And  the   loofe   revel   of  the  wanton  mafk  ; 
'  To  thefe  fucceed,  th'  appointed  guilty  hour, 

*  That  vefls  the  Libertine  with  boundlefs  pow'r  ; 

*  Whofe  darling  hope  confifts  not  in  the  joy 

*  He  fcarce  has  wifh'd,  and  that  fhall  inftant  cloy, 

*  But  in  the  triumph  his  mean  pride  has  won, 

*  When,  public  as  the  Air,  and  Noon-day  Sun, 

*  The  dup'd  unhappy  Fair-One's  crimes  fhall  throw 
'  New  fancied  glories  round  the  Boafter's  brow, 

*  Behold  Em  IRA,   loft  to  faith,  and  fhame, 

*  Quench  the  laft  fpark  of  her  long  faded  fame 

*  For  him,   whofe  gay  attentions   to  fecure, 

*  Ralli  Beauty  fpreads  the  felf-enfnaring  lure  ; 

'  That  haughty  Lord,  licentious,  falfe,  and  vain, 
<  Whofe  groveling  heart,  nor  Rank,. nor  charms  obtain; 

*  A  fvvarthy 


[     86     1 

*  A  fwartliy  Opera  Dancer  triumphs  there, 

*  And  foils  th'  attradions  of  the  high-born  Fair ; 

*  For  her  he  wears  the  abjedt,   laftmg  chains  ; 

*  To  her,   of  Fafhion's  drudgery  complains, 

'  When,  in  feign'd  tranfports  veiling  cold  diftafte, 

*  With  dames  of  Quality   his  moments   wafle  ; 

*  Wade,   to  fupport  his    confequence,  and  prove 

*  His  fvvay  refifllefs  in  the  realms  of  Love  ; 

*  While  by  her  venal  arts  himfelf  enflav'd, 

*  Poor  from  her  fquand'ring,  by  her  humors  brav'd, 

*  He  hugs  the  Bonds,  round  which,  to  grace  their  pow'r, 

*  Nor  Youth,  nor  Beauty  twine  one  blooming  flovv'r. 

'  On  him   Emira   her  unvalued  charms, 

*  Scarce  afk'd,  beftows,    to  wake  the  wifh'd  alarms 

*  Of  Sifter-Beauties,  and  enjoy  their  pain, 

*  Their  dangerous  fpleen,  and  rivalry  infane. 

*  Too  well,  the  haughty  Dames  avenge  the  fmart 

*  Her  fhort-liv'd  triumph  coft  their  fwelling  heart, 

*  As  her  falfe  Lover,  with  abandon'd  pride, 

*  Reveals  the  guilt,  which  Honor  bids  him  hide  ! 

'  Nor 


[     "7      ] 

*  Nor  tamely  had  an  injur'd  Hufband  borne 
'  Of  her  connubial  faith  this  lavifh   fcorn, 

*  But  that  his  own  remember'd  coldnefs  brought 

*  Some  palliation  to  his  generous  thought 

*  For  guilty  Beauty,  in  thefe  fenfual  times, 

'  V/here  foreign  failiions  lead  to  lorcign  crimes ; 

*  Then,   that  her  wealth,  when  Fortune's  ftorm  arofe, 

*  Saved  his  loved  Parents  from  impending  woes  ! 
'  Oh  !   'twas  a  thought  that  would  no  mark  allow 
'  Of  juft  refentment    for  her  broken  vow, 

*  Save,   that  he  leaves  the  violated  bed, 

*  Where  Peace  no  gentle  poppy  e'er  had  fhed, 

*  And   ftudiouily  each  day  avoids   the   Dame, 

*  Who  ftains  his  honor  with  her  bleeding  fame. 

*  By  Duty  urged,   by  Friendfhip  warn'd  in  vain, 
'As  gay  Em  IRA  drives  with  loofcn'd  rein, 

*  Proud  Diflipation's  wearying  labyrinths  prove 

*  The  bane  ot   Health,  as  the  difgrace  of  Love. 

*  'Midil  the  light  Throngs,  that  croud  the  garJlli  Mart, 

*  Confuming  Fever  hurls  her  fiery  dart  i 

'  Deep 


[     88     ]         . 

*  Deep  in  Emira's   breaft  behold  it  ftand, 

*  And  Life's  warm  current  fhrink  beneath  the  Brand ! 

'  'Tis  now  fhe  wakens  to  the  painful  fenfe 
'  Of  deep  contrition  for  her  paft  offence ; 
'  And  now,  alas  !    her  dying  eyes  furvey 
'  The  Form  of  guilty  Pleafure  pafs  away  ; 

*  Drop  the  gay  mafk,  and  throw  the  ghaftly  fmile 
'  Back  on  the  baffled  Vidim  of  her  guile. 

*  Haplefs  Emira  on  her  dying  bed 
Shrinks  from  the  Phantom  with  convulfive  dread  ; 
While  Confcience  rous'd,  her  former  guilt  recalls, 
And  with  Eugenio's  wrongs  her  heart  appals. 
Unfelt  till  this  fad  hour,   the  ftrong  controul 
Of  genuine  fondnefs  rufhes  on  her  Soul  ! 
But  with  her  native  violence  it  reigns, 
Aids  the  Difeafe,  and  Simulates  its  pains. 
Her  Hufband's  name,  in  tones  of  ftrange  affright. 
Eager  fhe  breathes,  nor  bears  him  from  her  fight. 
In  vain  her  calmnefs   gently  he  intreats. 
The  generous  pardon   vainly  he  repeats ; 

'  For 


[     .89     ] 

*  For,  ftarting  from  her  couch,  ihe  ftill  demands 
'  Pardon  afrefh,  and  wildly  wrings  his  hands, 

*  You  too,   Louisa,   fhe  invokes,  to  fign 

*  Her  paflport  bleft  to  Mercy's  healing  fhrine,' 
**  O  dear  Ernesto,"  the  fhrill  accents  cry, 
"  If  you  have  pity,  to  Louisa  fly  j 

"  Sweet,  injur'd  Excellence !  would  fhe  impart 

"  Her  pardon  to  this  felf-accufing  Heart, 

**  'Twould  cheer  my  Spirit,  hov'ring  on  its  flight 

"To  the  dark  confines  of  ETERNAL  NIGHT." 

*  She  faid — and  dear  Louisa  will  beftow 

*  Th'  adjur'd  forgivenefs   on  repentant  woe  ; 

*  Will  feel  its  fuff"'rings  all  her  wrongs  attone, 

*  And  in  Emira's  pangs  forget  her  own,' 

Ernesto  ceas'd — for  Pity's  throbs  oppreft 
With  tender  force  his  venerable  breaft. 
Thro'  the  remaining  way  our  mutual  fighs, 
From  awe-ftruck  thought,  in  folemn  filence  rife* 

N  Shudd'riog 


I     90     ] 

Shudd'ring  we  now  draw  near  the  houfe  of  Death,  ' 
And  find  yet  ftays  the  intermitting  breath.  ■  ">'  '' 
What  agitated  dread  my  bofom  tears,  c*'^'  '^   '^^^  ^ 

When  paufing  we  afcend  the  filent  flairs  I — ■• 
As  we  approach  the  ilowly  opening  door  !-i— 
As  my  pain'd  Senfes,  horror-ehili'd,  explore  '-^{   ii 
The  dim  Apartment,  where  the  leffen'ki  hght  j^^v/B 
Gives  the  pale  Suff'rer  to  my  featrful  fight  t    '  "^'^ 
The  matchlefs  grace  of  that  confummate  Frame'-' -'^^'i  " 
Withering  beneath  the  Fever's  fcorching  fiame.  ''^  '- ■" 
Outftretch'd  and  wan,  with  lab'ring  breath  £he  lies, 
Clofing  in  palfied  lids  her  quiv'ring  €yes-.~-^->ii;t  *->f4c  ■ 
EuGENio's  hand  lock'd  in  het  clafping  hands, 
As  hufh'd  and  mournful  by  her  couch  he  ftands  I-— 
Horror,    and   Pity   mingled   traces  flung, 
Which  o'er  his  Form,  like  wint'ry  ihadows,  hung ; 
Yet,  on  my  ent'rance  in  that  dreary  Room, 
A  gleam  of  Joy  darts  thro'  their  awful  gloom ! 
Oh  !   what  a  moment ! — ^my  E  u ge  n io's  face  ! — 
Alas !— how  faded  its  once  glowing  grace!. 
Pad  hours  of  woe  on  his  pale  cheek  I  read, 
In  eyes  whofe  beams,  like  waining  ftars,  recede ! 

Faintly 


[     9'     ] 

Faintly  the  found  of  that  known  voice  I  hear, 
"  Oh  my  Louisa  !"  fcarce  it  meets  my  ear, 
Left  the  imperfedt  dumber  fhould  be  found 
Chas'd  by  the  check'd  involuntary  found. 
But  clear  the  fenfes  of  the  Dying  feem, 
Like  the  expiring  taper's  flailiing  beam. 
Scarce  audibly  tho'   breath'd,    Louisa's   name 
Emir  A    hears,    and   her    enfeebled    Frame, 
With   fudden  pow'rlefs  effort,   ftrives  to  raife ; 
But,   finking  back,  her  eyes,  in  eager  gaze, 
Are  fix'd  on  mine,— what  anguilh  in  their  beams  I 
O  !    confcious   Guilt,  how  dreadful  thy  extremes  ! 
The  chill  numb  hands,  whence  deadly  dews;  had  broke. 
Snatched  from  her  Lord's,  when  ftarting  {he  awoke. 
Now,   as  they  feem  unable   to   extend. 
Softly   I  take,  as  o'er  her  couch   I  bend  ; 
She  turns  away,   opprefs'd  by   thought  fevere, 
And  fteeps  her  pillow  in  the  bittc  tear. 

Alas  !    be  calm  !   be  comforted  !    I   cried, 
*'  Do  yoti  too  pardon?" — flirilly  fhe   replied, 

N  2!i:ov/.  Bending 


[      92      ] 
Bending  again  on  me  that  burning  ray, 
Whofe  heat  no  contrite  waters  could   allay. 
"  Then,  dear  Louisa,  peaceful  fhall  I  die, 
"Since  hallow'd  thus  my  laft — remorfeful  figh ; 
"  But  Oh !    'tis  dread — when  Memory  difplays 
*'  The  guilt-ftain'd  retrofpeft  of  vaniih'd  days  ! 
"  The  fecret — feliifh  joy — which  hail'd  the  blow, 
**  That  laid  Ernesto's  profp'rous  fortunes  low; 
"  Sever'd  thofe  hands — whofe  glowing  hearts  were  join'd, 
**  The   facred  union  of  the  kindred  Mind.     ■ 
"  Heav'n  reunites  them ! — and  the  Wretch  removes, 
♦*  That  impious  rofe  between  their  plighted  Loves ;   J 
**  Who  not  content  to  blaft  their  fweet  increafe, 
*'  And  arm — Eugenio's  Virtue — 'gainft  his  Peace, 

*'  Added" But  now,  from  feeblenefs,  or  fliame, 

A  deadly  faintnefs    lickens  thro'   her  Frame. 

Reviving  fhortly —  "  I  would  fain,"  fhe  cries, 

*'  E'er  everlafting  darknefs  clofe  thefe  eyes, 

"  Intreat  uf  that  kind  Spirit — fweet,  and  mild, 

"  Its  future — gen'rous  goodnefs — to  my  Child. 

*'  Love  her,  Louisa — love  her — I  implore, 

'*  When  loft  Emir  a-— wounds  thy  peace  no  more  ! 

"  Oh  ! 


[     93      ] 
<*Oh!    gently  fofter  in  her  opening  Youth, 
**  The  feeds  of  Virtue— Honor — Faith — and  Truth, 
"  For  thy  Eugenio's  fake  ! — who  gave  her  birth, 
"  And  gave — I  truft — the  temper  of  his  worth  ! 
"  And  when — on  his  lov'd  knees — my  Infant  climbs, 
**  Adjure  him — to  forget  her  Mother's  crimes  ! 
*'  I  know  thou  wilt! — I  feel  thy  heart  expand, 
**  In  the  dear  prefTure — of  that  gentle  hand. 
'*  O  ye  wrong'd  pair  !    in  the  laft  awful  Morn, 
**  When  my  ftain'd  Soul  at  the  eternal  Bourn 
"  Shall  trembling  ftand — her  final  doom  to  hear, 
"  She  lefs  fhall  dread — to  meet  the  injur'd  there  ! 
**  Congenial  Mercy — fhe  may  hope  to  prove, 
<'  From  the  offended  Pow'rs — of  Truth— and  Love  !" 

While  yet  thefe  interrupted  accents  hung. 
Faint  on  the  rigid  lip,   and   falt'ring  tongue. 
The  ftiff'ning  fpafm,  the  fuifocating  breath, 
Gave  dread  prefage  of  near  approaching  Death. — 
Now  roll  the  eyes   in   fierce   and   reftlefs   gaze  ! 
Now  on  their  wildnefs  fteals  the  ghaftly  glaze  ! 

Till 


[     94     1 
Till  o'er  her  Form  the  fliadowy  horrors  fpread 
The  dim  fuffuiion  that  involves,  the    DEAD. 

Thus  Wealth,  and  Rank,  and.aU  their  gorgeous  Train, 
The  Proud  that  madden,  and  enfnare  tke  Vain  j 
Youth's  frolic  grace,  and  Beayty's  radiant  bloom. 
Sink,  in  the  dreary  filence  of  the  tomb  j 
But  oh  !    rejoice  with  me,   that  Hope's  bleft  beam 
Threw  o'er  the  dark  Abyfs  one  trembling  gleam  ! 

For  thy  Louisa — Words  can  ill  impart 
How  dear  the  comforts  eddying  round  her  heart  \  '  ^' 
How  foft  the  Joy,   by  Sorrow's  Shading  hand 
Touch'd  into  charms  more  exquiHtely  bland ! 
Or  paint  Eugenio's   tranfports  as  they  rife, 
More   fvvcet  for  gen'rous  Pity's  mingled  iighsivaiiv* 
Sweet  above  all,  from  the  exulting  pride 
Of  felf-approving  Virtue,   ftrongly  tried, 
r^pplauding  CONSCIENCE,  yes!  to  thee  'tis  giv'n^ 
^To  infpire  a  Joy,  that  antedates  our  Heav'n  ! 


Thus 


[     95     ] 

Thus,   on  Moriah's  confecrated  height, 
Flow'd  the  obedient  Patriarch's  fond  delight. 
When  o'er  the  filial  breaft,  his  faith  to  feal, 
On  high  had  gleamd  the  facrificing  Steel  j 
Thus  flow'd,  when  at  the  Voice,  divinely  mild. 
His  raptur'd  hands  unbound  his  only  Child  ! 

O  come,  my  E  m  m  a  ! — yet  thou  ne'er  haft  feen 
Embodied  Virtue  in  Eugenio's   Mein  j 
Grace,   grandeur,   truth,   and  tendernefs  combin'd, 
The  liberal  effluence  of  the  polifh'd  Mind  ! 
And  for  more  gen'rous  pleafures  than  we  prove, 
The  blifs  furveying  of  the  Friends  we   love, 
Sure  we  muft  wait,  till  Angels  fhall  impart 
Their  own  perfedion  to  th'   expanded  Heart  ! 

-     Hafte  then  to  {have  our  bleflings,  as  they  glow 

Thro'  the  receding  fhades  of  heavieft  woe  ! 

As  Spring's  fair  Morn,  with  calm,  and  dewy  light, 

Breaks  thro'  the  weary,  long,  and  flormy  Night, 

So  now,   as   thro'   the  Vale  of  Life  we  ftray. 

The  STAR  of  JOY  relumes,  and  leads  us  on  our  way  I 

FINIS, 


J^/  yi  ^^  -     u^'^t^^'^''^^^ 


t^V  ^-^     iZ-^cyy^  "     <:^^'ii^ 


..:^ 


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